41  ID 


THE  ANNALS   OF  ANN 


Ann 


The  Annals  of  Ann 


By  KATE   TRIMBLE  SHARBER 


WITH  FOUR  ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY  PAUL  J.  MEYLAN 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPVHIGHT    1910 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


THE  ANNALS   OF  ANN 


2133080 


THE  ANNALS  OF  ANN 


CHAPTER  I 

MY  Cousin  Eunice  is  a  grown  young  lady 
and  she  keeps  a .  diary,  which  put  the 
notion  into  my  head  of  keeping  one  too. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  people  that  keep  dia- 
ries, married  ones  and  single  ones.  The  single 
ones  fill  theirs  full  of  poetry ;  the  married  ones 
tell  how  much  it  costs  to  keep  house. 

Not  being  extra  good  in  grammar  and 
spelling,  I  thought  I'd  copy  a  few  pages  out  of 
Cousin  Eunice's  diary  this  morning  as  a  pattern 
to  keep  mine  by,  but  I  was  disappointed.  Nearly 
every  page  I  turned  to  in  hers  was  filled  full  of 
poetry,  which  stuff  never  did  make  good  sense 
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THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

to  me,  besides  the  trouble  it  puts  you  to  by  hav- 
ing to  start  every  line  with  a  fresh  capital. 

Cousin  Eunice  says  nearly  all  famous  people 
keep  a  diary  for  folks  to  read  after  they're 
dead.  I  always  did  admire  famous  people,  espe- 
cially Lord  Byron  and  Columbus.  And  I've  often 
thought  I  should  like  to  be  a  famous  person 
myself  when  I  get  grown.  I  don't  care  so  much 
about  graduating  in  white  mull,  trimmed  in  lace, 
as  some  girls  do,  for  the  really  famous  never 
graduate.  They  get  expelled  from  college  for 
writing  little  books  saying  there  ain't  any  devil. 
But  I  should  love  to  be  a  beautiful  opera  singer, 
with  a  jasmine  flower  at  my  throat,  and  a  fresh 
duke  standing  at  the  side  door  of  the  theater 
every  night,  begging  me  to  marry  him.  Or 
I'd  like  to  rescue  a  ship  full  of  drowning  people, 
then  swim  back  to  shore  and  calmly  squeeze  the 
salt  water  out  of  my  bathing  suit,  so  the  papers 
would  all  be  full,  of  it  the  next  morning. 

Things  don't  turn  out  the  way  you  expect 
them  to,  though,  and  I  needn't  count  too  much 
2 


on  these  things.  I  might  catch  cold  in  my 
voice,  or  cramps  in  the  sea  and  never  get 
famous ;  but  I'm  going  to  keep  this  diary  any- 
how, and  just  hand  it  down  to  my  grandchildren, 
for  nearly  every  lady  can  count  on  them, 
whether  she's  famous  or  infamous. 

Maybe  some  rainy  day,  a  hundred  years  from 
now,  a  little  girl  will  find  this  book  in  the  attic, 
all  covered  with  dust,  and  will  sit  down  and  read 
it,  while  the  rain  sounds  soft  and  pattery  on  the 
outside,  and  her  mother  calls  and  calls  without 
getting  an  answer.  This  is  not  at  all  the  right 
way  to  do,  but  what  can  they  expect  of  you 
when  your  attic  is  such  a  very  delicious  place? 
Ours  is  high  enough  not  to  bump  your  head, 
even  if  you  are  as  tall  as  my  friend,  Rufe  Clay- 
borne,  and  where  a  part  of  the  window-pane  is 
broken  out  an  apple-tree  sends  in  a  perky  little 
branch.  Just  before  Easter  every  year  I  spend 
nearly  all  my  time  up  here  at  this  window,  for 
the  apple  blossoms  seem  to  have  so  many  things 
to  say  to  me ;  lovely  things,  that  I  can  feel,  but 
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THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

can  not  hear,  and  if  I  could  write  them  down  this 
would  be  the  most  beautiful  book  in  the  world. 
And  great  sheets  of  rain  come  sometimes;  you 
can  see  them  coming  from  the  hills  back  of  Mr. 
Clayborne's  house,  but  the  apple  blossoms  don't 
mind  the  wetting. 

When  I  wrote  "Mr.  Clayborne"  just  then  it 
reminded  me  of  Cousin  Eunice's  diary.  That 
was  one  sensible  word  which  was  on  every  page. 
Sometimes  it  was  mixed  up  close  along  with  the 
poetry,  but  I  always  knew  who  she  meant,  for  he 
is  my  best  friend  and  the  grandest  young  man 
I've  ever  seen  out  of  a  book.  His  other  name 
is  Rufe,  and  he's  an  editor  when  he's  in  the  city. 
But  before  he  got  to  be  an  editor  he  was  born 
across  the  creek  from  our  farm,  and  we've  al- 
ways been  great  friends.  His  father  and  mine 
are  also  friends,  always  quarreling  about  whose 
bird-dogs  and  hotbeds  are  the  best ;  and  our 
mothers  talk  a  heap  about  "original  sin"  and 
chow-chow  pickle. 

Maybe  rny  grandchildren  would  like  to  know 
4 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

a  few  little  things  about  me  at  the  time  I  started 
keeping  this  diary  for  their  sakes,  so  I'll  stop 
now  and  tell  them  as  quickly  as  I  can,  for  I 
never  did  think  just  my  own  self  was  so  interest- 
ing. If  they  have  any  imagination  they  can  tell 
pretty  well  what  kind  of  a  person  I  was  anyhow 
from  the  grand  portrait  I'm  going  to  have 
painted  for  them  in  the  gown  I  wear  when  I'm 
presented  at  court. 

Well,  I  was  born  in  the  year — but  if  I  tell  that 
you  will  know  exactly  how  old  I  am,  that  is  if 
you  can  count  things  better  than  I  can.  Any- 
how, when  I  read  a  thing  I'd  rather  they  didn't 
tell  just  how  old  the  heroine  is.  Then  you  can 
have  her  any  age  you,  like  best.  Maybe  if  I  were 
to  tell  exactly  how  many  birthdays  I've  had  you 
would  always  be  saying,  like  mother  and  Mammy 
Lou,  "You're  a  mighty  big  girl  to  be  doing  such 
siDy  things."  Or  like  Rufe  says  sometimes, 
"Ann,  you're  entirely  too  young  to  be  interested 
in  suck  subjects  as  that."  So  you  will  have  to 
be  satisfied  when  I  tell  you  that  I'm  at  the 
5 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"gawky  age."  And  a  person  is  never  surprised 
at  anything  that  a  girl  at  the  "gawky  age" 
does. 

I  am  little  enough  still  to  love  puppies  and  big 
enough  to  love  Washington  Irving.  You  might 
think  these  don't  mix  well,  but  they  do.  On  rainy 
mornings  I  like  to  take  a  pupjjy  under  one  arm 
and  Tike  Alhambra  under  the  other,  with  eight 
or  ten  apples  in  my  lap,  and  climb  up  in  the  loft 
to  enjoy  the  greatest  pleasure  of  my  life.  I 
sling  The  Alhambra  up  on  the  hay  first,  then 
ease  the  puppy  up  and  take  the  hem  of  my  skirt 
between  my  teeth  so  the  apples  won't  spill  out 
while  I  go  up  after  them.  But  I  never  even  look 
at  hay  when  there's  a  pile  of  cottonseed  to  wal- 
low in. 

As  to  my  ways,  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  I'm 
what  mother  calls  a  "peculiar  child."  Mammy 
says  I'm  "the  curiousest  mixtry  she  ever  seen." 
That's  because  I  ask  "Why?"  very  often  and 
then  lots  of  times  don't  exactly  believe  that 
things  are  that  way  when  they're  told  to  me. 
6 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

One  day  at  Sunday-school,  when  I  was  about 
four,  the  teacher  was  telling  about  Jonah. 
Mother  often  told  me  tales,  some  that  I  called 
"make-believe,"  and  others  that  I  called  "so 
tales."  When  the  teacher  got  through  I  spoke 
up  and  asked  her  if  that  was  a  "so  tale."  She 
said  yes,  it  was,  but  I  horrified  every  other  child 
in  the  class  by  speaking  up  again  and  saying, 
"Well,  me  don't  believe  it!" 

Old  as  I  am  now,  I  don't  see  how  Jonah's 
constitution  could  have  stood  it,  but  I've  got 
sense  enough  to  believe  many  a  thing  that  I  can't 
see  nor  smell  nor  feel.  An  old  man  out  in  the 
mountains  that  had  never  been  anywhere  might 
say  he  didn't  believe  in  electricity,  but  that 
wouldn't  keep  your  electric  light  bill  from  be- 
ing more  than  you  thought  it  ought  to  be  at 
the  end  of  the  month. 

Speaking    of    bills    reminds    me    of    father. 

.  Father  is  not  a  rich  man,  but  his  folks  used  to 

be  before  the  war.  That's  the  way  with  so  many 

people  around  here,  they  have  more  ancestry 

7 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

than  anything  else.  Still,  we  have  perfectly 
lovely  smelling  old  leather  books  in  our  library, 
and  when  cotton  goes  high  we  go  up  to  the  city 
and  take  a  suite  of  rooms  with  a  bath. 

I  am  telling  you  all  this,  my  grandchildren,  to 
let  you  know  that  you  have  blue  blood  in  your 
veins,  but  you  mustn't  let  yours  get  too  blue. 
Father  says  it  takes  a  dash  of  red  blood  mixed 
with  blue,  like  turpentine  with  paint,  to  make 
it  go. 

Still,  I  hope  the  old  place  will  be  just  as  beau- 
tiful when  my  grandchildren  get  old  enough  to 
appreciate  it  as  it  is  now,  and  not  be  sold  and 
turned  into  a  sanitarium,  or  a  girls'  school.  The 
walls  of  the  house  are  a  soft  grayish  white,  like 
a  dear  old  grandmother's  hair;  and  the  mycra- 
vella  roses  in  the  far  corner  of  the  yard  put  such 
notions  into  your  head !  There  are  rows  of  cedar 
trees  down  the  walk,  planted  before  Andrew 
Jackson's  time ;  and  at  night  there  are  the  stars. 
I  love  stars,  especially  Venus;  but  there  arfe  a 
lot  of  others  that  I  dom't  know  the  naaifcg  of. 
8 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Inside,  the  house  is  cool  and  shady ;  and  you 
can  always  find  a  place  to  lie  down  and  read. 
Cousin  Eunice  says  so  many  people  spoil  their 
houses  by  selecting  carpets  and  wall-paper  that 
look  like  they  want  to  fight.  But  ours  is  not 
like  that.  Some  corners  in  our  library  look  like 
Ladies'  Own  Journal  pictures. 

Cousin  Eunice  doesn't  belong  to  our  house, 
but  I  wish  she  did,  for  she's  as  beautiful  as  a 
magazine  cover.  And  I  think  we  have  the  nicest 
home  in  the  world.  Besides  being  old  and  big 
and  far  back  in  the  yard,  there's  always  the 
smell  of  apples  up-stairs.  And  I'm  sure  mother 
is  the  nicest  lady  in  the  world.  She  wants  every- 
body to  have  a  good  time,  and  no  matter 
whether  you're  a  man,  a  young  lady,  or  a  little 
girl,  she  lets  you  scatter  your  pipes,  love-letters 
and  doll-rags  from  the  front  gate  to  the  backest 
chicken-coop  without  ever  fussing.  Mother  ad- 
mires company  greatly.  She  doesn't  have  to 
perspire  over  them  herself,  though,  for  she  has 
Mammy  Lou  to  do  all  the  cooking  and  Dilsey  to 
9 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

make  up  the  beds.  So  she  invited  Cousin  Eunice 
to  spend  the  summer  with  us  and  asked  Bertha, 
a  cousin  on  the  other  side,  to  come  at  the  same 
time,  for  she  said  girls  love  to  be  together.  We 
soon  found  out,  though,  that  some  girls  do  and 
some  don't. 

Cousin  Eunice  said  I  might  always  express 
my  frank  opinion  of  people  and  things  in  my 
diary,  so  I  take  pleasure  in  starting  in  on 
Bertha.  Bertha,  she  is  a  cat!  Even  Rufe  called 
her  one  the  night  she  got  here.  Not  a  straight- 
out  cat,  exactly,  but  he  called  her  a  kitten ! 

You  see,  when  Bertha  was  down  here  on  a 
little  visit  last  year  she  and  Rufe  had  up  a  kind 
of  summer  engagement.  A  summer  engagement 
is  where  the  girl  wears  the  man's  fraternity  pin 
instead  of  a  ring.  And  when  she  came  again  this 
time  it  didn't  take  them  two  hours  to  get  sum- 
mer engaged  again,  it  being  moonlight  on  the 
front  porch  and  Bertha  looking  real  soft  and 
purry. 

Then  the  very  next  week  Cousin  Eunice  came ! 
10 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

And  poor  Rufe !  We  all  felt  so  sorry  for  him, 
for,  from  the  first  minute  he  looked  at  her  he 
was  in  love;  and  it's  a  terrible  thing  to  be  in 
love  and  engaged  at  the  same  time,  when  one  is 
with  one  girl  and  the  other  to  another!  And 
it  was  so  plain  that  the  eyes  of  the  potatoes 
could  see  it !  But  Bertha  hadn't  an  idea  of  giv- 
ing up  anybody  as  good-looking  as  Rufe  to  an- 
other somebody  as  good-looking  as  Cousin 
Eunice,  which  mother  said  was  a  shame,  and  she 
never  did  such  a  thing  when  she  was  a  girl ;  but 
Mammy  Lou  said  it  was  no  more  than  Rufe  de- 
served for  not  being  more  careful. 

But  anyway,  Cousin  Eunice  and  Bertha 
hadn't  been  together  two  days  before  they  hated 
each  other  so  they  wouldn't  use  the  same  powder 
rag!  They  just  couldn't  bear  the  sight  of  each 
other  because  they  could  both  bear  the  sight  of 
Rufe  so  well.  This  was  a  disappointment  to  me, 
for  I  had  hoped  they  would  go  into  each  other's 
rooms  at  night  and  brush  their  hair,  half  un- 
dressed, and  have  as  good  a  time  as  the  pictures 
11 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

of  ladies  in  underwear  catalogues  always  seem 
to  be  having.  But  they  are  not  at  all  friendly. 
They  have  never  even  asked  each  other  what 
make  of  corsets  they  wear,  nor  who  operated  on 
them  for  appendicitis.  Bertha  talks  a  great 
deal  about  Rufe  and  how  devoted  he  was  to  her 
last  summer,  but  Cousin  Eunice  won't  talk  at  all 
when  Bertha's  around.  She  sits  still  and  looks 
dumb  and  superior  as  a  trained  nurse  does  when 
you  are  trying  to  find  out  what  it  is  that  the 
patient  has  got. 

Cousin  Eunice  has  a  right  to  act  superior, 

though,  for  while  other  girls  are  spending  their 

time   embroidering   chafing-dish   aprons    she   is 

studying  books  written  by  a  man  with  a  name 

like  a  sneeze.    Let  me  get  one  of  the  books  to  see 

how  it  is  spelled.     N-i-e-t-z-s-c-h-e !     There!     I 

got  it  down  at  last !    And  Cousin  Eunice  doesn't 

have  just  a  plain  parlor  at  home  to  receive  her 

.  beaux  in ;  she  has  a  studio.    A  studio  is  a  room 

/  full  of  things  that  catch  dust.    And  the  desire  of 

her  life  is  to  write  a  little  brown-backed  book 

18 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

that  people  will  fill  full  of  pencil  marks  and  al- 
ways carry  around  with  "them  in  their  suit-cases. 
She  doesn't  neglect  her  outside  looks,  though, 
just  because  her  mind  is  so  full  of  great 
thoughts.  No  indeed!  Her  fountain  pen  jostles 
against  her  looking-glass  in  her  hand-bag,  and 
her  note-boo^:  gets  dusted  over  with  pink 
powder. 

Now,  Bertha  is  entirely  different!  No  mat- 
ter how  the  sun  is  shining  outside  she  spends  all 
her  mornings  up  in  her  room  shining  her  finger- 
nails ;  and  she  wears  pounds  and  pounds  of  hair 
on  the  back  of  her  head.  Father  says  the  less  a 
girl  has  on  the  inside  the  more  she  will  stick  on 
the  outside  of  her  head,  and  lots  of  men  can't 
tell  the  difference.  Bertha  certainly  isn't  at  a 
loss  for  lovers.  She  gets  a  great  many  letters 
from  a  "commercial  traveler."  A  "commercial 
traveler"  is  a  man  who  writes  to  his  girl  on  dif- 
ferent hotel  paper  every  day.  These  letters  are 
a  great  comfort  to  her  spirit  when  Rufe  acts 
so  loving  around  Cousin  Eunice ;  and  she  always 
13 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

has  one  sticking  in  her  belt  when  Rufe  is  near 
by,  with  the  name  of  the  hotel  showing. 

Every  night  just  before  or  just  after  supper 
I  always  go  out  to  the  kitchen  and  tell  Mammy 
Lou  all  the  news  I've  seen  or  heard  that  day.  She 
laughs  when  I  tell  her  about  how  Bertha  is  try- 
ing to  hold  on  to  Rufe. 

"  'Tain't  a  speck  o'  use,"  she  said  to-night  so 
emphatically  that  I  was  afraid  the  omelette 
would  fall.  "Why,  a  camel  can  dance  a  Virginny 
reel  in  the  eye  of  a  needle  quicker  than  a  gal  can 
sick  a  man  back  to  lovin'  her  after  he's  done 
took  a  notion  to  change  the  picture  he  wears 
in  his  watch!" 

Mammy  told  the  truth,  I'm  sure,  for  Bertha 
has  worn  all  her  prettiest  dresses  and  done  her 
hair  two  new  ways,  trying  to  get  him  back ;  but 
he  is  still  "coldly  polite,"  which  I  think  is  the 
meanest  way  on  earth  to  treat  a  person.  Not 
that  Bertha  doesn't  deserve  it,  for  she  knew  they 
were  just  joking  about  that  summer  engage- 
14 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

ment,  but  she  still  wears  the  fraternity  pin, 
which  of  course  causes  Cousin  Eunice  to  be 
"coldly  polite"  to  Ruf  e ;  and  altogether  we  don't 
really  need  a  refrigerator  in  the  house  this 
summer. 

Mammy  Lou  and  I  had  been  trying  to  think 
up  a  plan  to  thaw  out  the  atmosphere,  but  this 
morning  a  way  was  provided,  and  I  greatly  en- 
joyed being  "an  humble  instrument,"  as  Brother 
Sheffield  says. 

Everything  was  draggy  this  morning. 
Bertha  was  down  in  the  parlor  singing  "popular 
songs"  very  loud  as  I  came  down  the  steps  with 
my  diary  in  my  hand.  I  despise  popular  songs ! 
As  I  went  past  the  kitchen  door  on  my  way  to 
the  big  pear  tree  which  I  meant  to  climb  and 
write  in  my  book  I  saw  that  Mammy  Lou  was 
having  the  time  of  her  life  telling  Cousin  Eunice 
all  about  when  Rufe  was  a  baby.  She  had  called 
her  in  there  to  get  some  fresh  buttermilk,  and 
Cousin  Eunice  was  drinking  glass  after  glass  of 
it  with  such  a  rapt  look  on  her  face  I  knew  she 
15 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

didn't  realize  that  she  couldn't  get  on  her  tight 
clothes  till  mid-afternoon. 

"Of  course  he's  a  extry  fine  young  man!" 
mammy  said,  dipping  for  another  glassful. 
"There  never  was  nary  finer  baby — an'  wasn't  I 
right  there  when  Mr.  Rufe  was  born?" 

"Sure  enough!"  Cousin  Eunice  said,  looking 
entranced. 

This  wasn't  much  more  entertaining  to  me 
than  Bertha's  singing,  for  I  had  heard  it  all  so 
many  times  before,  so  I  went  out  to  the  pear 
tree  and  climbed  up,  but  I  couldn't  think  of 
even  one  word  that  would  be  of  interest  to  my 
grandchildren.  So  I  just  wrote  my  name  over 
and  over  again  on  the  fly-pages.  I  wonder  what 
makes  them  call  them  "fly-pages?"  Then  I 
closed  my  book  and  climbed  down  again.  I 
started  back  to  the  house  by  the  side  way,  and 
met  Rufe  coming  up  the  walk  toward  the  front 
door. 

"Hello,  Rufe,"  I  said,  running  to  meet  him 
and  walking  with  him  to  the  front  steps.  "I'm 
16 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

so  glad  to  see  you.  Everything  is  so  draggy 
this  morning.  Won't  you  sit  on  the  steps  and 
talk  to  me  a  while?  Or  are  you  in  a  hurry?" 

"I'm  always  in  a  hurry  when  I'm  going  to 
your  house,"  he  answered  with  a  look  in  the 
direction  of  Cousin  Eunice's  window.  "And  my 
visits  always  seem  as  short  as  a  wedding  jour- 
ney when  the  bridegroom's  salary  is  small." 

He  dusted  off  the  step,  though,  and  sat 
down;  and  I  told  him  that  Cousin  Eunice  was 
drinking  buttermilk  in  her  kimono  and  wouldn't 
be  in  a  mood  to  dress  for  another  hour.  Then  I 
told  him  what  a  hard  time  I'd  had  trying  to 
think  up  something  interesting  to  write  in  my 
diary.  He  said,  looking  again  toward  Cousin 
Eunice's  window,  that  there  was  only  one  thing 
in  the  world  to  write  about !  But  he  supposed  I 
was  too  young  to  know  anything  about  that.  I 
spoke  up  promptly  and  told  him  a  girl  never  got 
too  young  to  know  about  love. 

"Love!"  he  said,  trying  to  look  surprised. 
"Who  mentioned  love?" 


THE   ANNALS   OF   ANN 

Just  then  I  heard  the  flutteration  of  a  silk 
petticoat  on  the  porch  behind  the  vines,  but 
Rufe  was  gazing  so  hard  at  the  blue  hills  on 
the  far  side  of  town  that  he  didn't  hear  it.  So, 
without  saying  anything  to  him,  I  leaned  over 
far  enough  to  look  under  the  banisters,  and  saw 
the  bottom  of  Bertha's  skirt  and  a  skein  of  blue 
silk  thread  lying  on  the  floor.  So  I  knew  she 
was  sitting  there  working  on  that  everlasting 
chafing-dish  apron.  Then  Satan  put  an  idea 
into  my  head.  I  think  it  was  Satan. 

"Rufe,"  I  said,  talking  very  loud  and  quick, 
so  Bertha  would  just  have  to  hear  me,  "what's 
the  difference  between  a  kitten  and  a  cat  ?" 

Rufe  at  last  got  his  eyes  unfixed  from  the 
blue  hills  and  just  stared  at  me  foolishly  for  a 
second. 

"Am  I  the  parent  of  a  child  that  I  should 
have  to  answer  fool  questions  ?"  he  said. 

"But  the  night  she  came  you  called  Bertha  a 
kitten!"  I  reminded  him,  and  he  looked  worse 
surprised.  "And  since  I've  heard  her  called  a 
18 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

cat!  How  long  does  it  take  a  kitten  to  grow 
into  a  cat?" 

"Oh,  I  see!  Well,  I'm  better  versed  in  feline 
ways  now  than  I  «was  that  night ;  so  I  might 
state  that  sometimes  you  discover  that  a  kitten  is 
a  cat !  There  isn't  any  difference !" 

We  heard  a  clattering  noise  behind  the  vines 
just  then,  which  I  knew  was  Bertha  dropping 
her  embroidery  scissors.  Rufe  jumped,  for  he 
had  no  idea  anybody  was  hearing  our  conversa- 
tion ;  and  I  know  he  wouldn't  have  said  what  he 
did  about  cats  except  he  thought  I  was  too  little 
to  understand  such  figures  of  speech.  Then  he 
got  up  to  go  in  and  see  who  it  was.  And  I  de- 
cided to  disappear  around  the  corner  of  the 
house.  I  didn't  altogether  Disappear  before  I 
heard  her  say  indeed  he  had  meant  to  call  her  a 
cat ;  and  he  said  indeed  he  hadn't,  but  she  hadn't 
been  "square"  with  him,  and  they  talked  and 
talked  until  I  got  uneasy  that  Cousin  Eunice 
would  be  coming  through  the  hall  and  hear 
them.  So  I  hurried  on  back  to  head  her  off.  But 
19 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Satan,  or  whoever  it  was,  put  me  up  to  a  good 
job  in  that,  for  the  next  time  I  saw  Rufe  he  was 
wearing  his  fraternity  pin  and  a  happy  smile. 
And  Bertha  had  red  spots  on  her  face,  even  as 
late  as  dinner-time,  like  consumption  that  lovely 
heroines  die  of. 

I've  been  too  disappointed  lately  to  write  in 
my  diary.  Somehow,  I  think  like  Rufe,  that 
there's  only  one  thing  worth  writing  about,  and 
there's  been  very  little  in  that  line  going  on 
around  here  lately.  Poor  Rufe  is  having  a 
harder  time  now  than  he  had  when  Bertha  was 
on  his  hands,  for  Cousin  Eunice  has  taken  it  into 
her  head  to  show  him  that  she  doesn't  have  to 
accept  him  the  minute  he  gets  untangled  from  a 
summer  flirtation.  Those  were  her  very  words. 

She  and  I  go  for  long  walks  with  him  every 
morning,  down  through  the  ravine;  and  they\ 
read  poetry  that  sounds  so  good  you  feel  like 
somebody's  scratching  your  back.  And  she 
wears  her  best-fitting  shirtwaists.  One  good 
20 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

thing  about  Cousin  Eunice  is  that  her  clothes 
never  look  like  she'd  sat  up  late  the  night  before 
to  make  them.  And  when  she's  expecting  him  at 
night  her  eyes  shine  like  they  had  been  greased ; 
and  I  can  tell  from  the  way  she  breathes  quick 
when  she  hears  the  gate  open  that  she  loves  him. 
Yes,  she  adores  the  sound  of  his  rubber  heels  on 
the  front  porch;  but  she  won't  give  in  to  him. 
She's  punishing  him  for  the  Bertha  part  of  it. 
Mother  says  she's  very  foolish,  for  men  will  be 
men,  especially  on  nights  in  June ;  but  Mammy 
Lou  says  she's  exactly  right;  and  I  reckon 
mammy  knows  best,  for  she's  been  married  a 
heap  more  times  than  mother  ever  has. 

"The  longer  you  keep  a  man  feelin'  like  he's 
on  a  red-hot  stove  the  better  he  loves  you," 
Mammy  Lou  told  Cousin  Eunice  to-night,  as 
she  was  powdering  her  face  for  the  last  time 
before  going  down-stairs  and  trying  to  keep  us 
from  seeing  that  she  was  listening  for  a  foot- 
step on  the  gravel  walk.  "An*  a  husban's  got  to 
be  treated  jus'  like  a  lover!  A  good,  heavy 
21 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

poker's  a  fine  thing  to  make  a  husban'  know  'is 
place — an'  Lawk !  a  lazy  husban's  like  a  greasy 
churn — you  have  to  give  him  a  thorough  scaldin' 
to  do  any  good !" 

This  morning  at  the  breakfast  table,  after 
father  had  helped  the  plates  to  chicken,  saving 
two  gizzards  for  me,  he  said:  "Times  have 
changed  since  I  was  a  young  man!" 

As  this  wasn't  exactly  the  first  time  we  had 
heard  such  a  remark  none  of  us  paid  any  atten- 
tion to  it  until  we  saw  mother  trying  to  make 
him  hush.  Then  we  knew  he  must  be  starting 
to  say  something  funny  about  Cousin  Eunice 
and  Rufe,  for  mother  always  stops  him  on  this 
subject  whenever  she  can,  because  she  doesn't 
want  Bertha's  feelings  hurt.  But  Bertha  never 
seems  to  mind.  She's  decided  to  marry  the  com- 
mercial traveler,  I'm  almost  sure,  although  her 
people  say  he's  not  "steady."  Steady  means 
staying  still,  so  who  ever  heard  of  a  traveling 
man  who  was  steady  ? 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"Times  have  changed,  especially  about  court- 
ing," father  kept  on,  pretending  that  he  didn't 
see  mother  shaking  her  head  at  him.  When 
father  gets  that  twinkle  in  his  eye  he  can't  see 
anything  else.  "Now  in  my  young  days  when  a 
girl  and  a  fellow  looked  good  to  each  other  they 
usually  got  engaged  at  once.  But  now — jump- 
ing Jerusalem!  No  matter  how  deeply  in  love 
they  are  they  waste  days  and  days  trying  to  get 
a  'complete  understanding'  of  each  other's 
nature.  They  talk  about  their  opinion  of  every- 
thing under  the  sun,  from  woman's  suffrage  to 
Belshazzar's  feast." 

"Lord  Byron  wrote  a  piece  in  the  Fifth 
Reader  about  Belshazzar's  feast,"  I  started  to 
remark,  but  I  remembered  in  time  to  hush,  for 
I've  never  been  able  to  mention  Lord  Byron's 
name  to  my  family  in  any  peace  since  they  found 
that  I  keep  a  vase  of  flowers  in  front  of  his  pic- 
ture all  the  time.  They  call  him  my  beau — the 
beautiful  creature ! 

Father  didn't  notice  my  remark,  however.  He 
23 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

was  too  busy  with  his  own.  "And  instead  of  ex- 
changing locks  of  hair,  as  they  used  to  when 
Mary  and  I  were  young,  they  give  each  other 
limp-backed  books  that  have  'helped  to  shape 
their  career,'  and  beg  that  they  will  mark  the 
passages  that  impress  them!" 

"Uncle  Dan,  you've  been  eavesdropping!" 
Cousin  Eunice  said,  looking  up  from  her  hot 
biscuit  and  honey  long  enough  to  smile  at  him, 
but  she  didn't  quit  eating.  It  has  got  out  of 
style  to  stop  eating  when  you're  in  love,  for  a 
man  admires  a  healthy-looking  girl.  I  know  a 
young  man  who  had  been  going  to  see  a  girl 
for  a  long  time  and  never  did  propose.  She  was 
a  pretty  girl,  too,  slender  and  wild-rosy-looking. 
Well,  she  took  a  trip  to  Germany  one  summer 
and  drank  so  much  of  something  fattening  over 
there  that  the  wild-rose  look  changed  to  Amer- 
ican beauty ;  and  when  she  came  home  in  the  fall 
the  young  man  was  so  delighted  with  her  looks 
that  he  turned  in  and  married  her  before  Christ- 
mas! 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Cousin  Eunice  knows  these  people  too,  and  she 
does  all  she  can  to  keep  her  digestion  good,  even 
to  fresh  milk  and  raw  eggs.  I  hope  /  can  get 
married  without  the  raw  eggs  part  of  it.  And 
she  tramps  all  over  the  woods  for  the  sake  of  her 
appetite  in  stylish-looking  tan  boots. 

As  we  left  the  dining-room  I  noticed  that  she 
had  on  her  walking-boots  and  a  short  skirt,  so 
I  thought  Rufe  would  be  along  pretty  soon  for 
us  to  go  down  to  the  ravine  and  read  poetry. 
They  always  take  me  along  because  I  soon  get 
enough  of  the  poetry  and  go  off  to  wade  in  the 
branch,  leaving  them  on  their  favorite  big  gray 
rock. 

Sure  enough*  Rufe  wasn't  long  about  coming, 
fuid  I  saw  that  his  limp-backed  book  was  labeled 
"Keats"  this  morning.  Cousin  Eunice  didn't 
have  a  book.  She  carried  a  parasol.  A  para- 
sul  is  used  to  jab  holes  in  the  sand  when  you're 
Leing  made  love  to. 

I  don't  know  why  I  should  have  felt  so,  but 
just  as  soon  as  they  got  started  to  reading  this 
25 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

morning  I  had  a  curious  feeling,  like  you  have 
when  the  lights  burn  low  on  the  stage  and  the 
orchestra  begins  The  Flower  Song.  The  way 
they  looked  at  each  other  made  under  my  scalp 
tingle.  Now,  if  I  ever  have  a  granddaughter 
that  doesn't  have  this  feeling  in  the  presence  of 
great  things  I  shall  disinherit  her  and  leave  my 
diamonds  to  a  society  for  tuberculosis  or  pure 
food  or  fresh  air,  or  some  of  those  charitable 
things. 

Before  long  they  branched  off  from  Keats  to 
Shelley,  and  Rufe  didn't  need  a  book  with  him. 
Just  after  he  had  finished  a  little  verse  begin- 
ning, "I  can  not  give  what  men  call  love,"  I  had 
sense  enough  to  get  up  and  go  away  from  them. 
Although  I  have  always  been  crazy  to  see  a  pro- 
posal, there  was  something  in  the  atmosphere 
around  that  old  gray  rock  that  made  me  feel  as 
if  I  were  treading  on  sacred  ground.  (I  hate  to 
use  expressions  like  this,  that  everybody  else 
uses,  but  I  can't  think  of  anything  else  and  it's 
getting  too  late  to  sit  here  by  myself  and  try. ) 
26 


Jabbing  holes  in  the  sand  with  her  parasol    Page  26 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Anyhow  it's  the  feeling  you  have  when  you  go 
into  a  cathedral  with  stained  glass  windows.  So 
I  went  away  from  them,  but  not  very  far  away, 
just  a  little  distance,  to  where  I  have  a  lovely 
pile  of  moss  collected  on  the  north  side  of  a  big 
tree.  And  the  smotheration  around  my  heart 
kept  up. 

It  seemed  to  me  the  longest  time  before  any- 
thing happened,  for  Cousin  Eunice  was  jabbing 
holes  in  the  sand  with  her  parasol  like  she  was 
being  paid  to  do  it  by  the  hour.  Finally,  with- 
out any  ado,  he  put  his  hands  on  hers  and  made 
her  stop. 

"Sweetheart,"  I  heard  him  say,  so  low  that  I 
could  hardly  hear,  for  The  Flower  Song  was 
buzzing  through  my  head  so  loud.  Then  he 
seemed  to  remember  me  for  he  looked  around, 
and,  seeing  that  I  was  clear  gone,  he  said  it 
again,  "Sweetheart."  She  looked  up  at  him 
when  he  said  it,  and  looked  and  looked!  Maybe 
she  never  had  realized  before  just  how  big  and 
broad-shouldered  and  brown-eyed  Rufe  really 
27 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

is !  Neither  one  of  them  said  anything,  but  he 
put  both  arms  around  her ;  and  when  I  saw  that 
they  were  going  to  kiss  I  shut  my  eyes  right 
tight  and  stopped  up  my  ears  and  buried  my 
face  in  the  pile  of  moss.  Even  then  I  never  felt 
so  much  like  a  yellow  dog  in  my  life ! 


CHAPTER  II 

YOU  hear  a  heap  of  talking  these  days 
about  "the  divine  mission  of  woman," 
especially  from  long-haired  preachers  that 
don't  believe  in  ladies  voting ;  and  another  heap 
of  talk  about  the  "rights"  of  women  from  the 
ladies  themselves. 

There  was  so  much  of  it  going  on  last  winter 
when  I  was  at  Rufe's  that  I  told  some  of  it  to 
Mammy  Lou  when  I  came  home.  She  says  it's 
every  speck  a  question  of  dish-washing  when 
you  sift  it  down  to  the  bottom.  The  women  are 
tired  of  their  job  and  the  men  are  too  proud  to 
do  it  unless  the  window  shades  are  pulled  down. 

I  don't  blame  the  men  for  being  proud.  They 
have  something  to  be  proud  of,  for  they  can  do 
exactly  as  they  please,  from  wearing  out  the 
29 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

seats  of  their  trousers  when  they're  little  to  be- 
ing president  when  they're  big.  When  I  was 
right  little  I  used  to  think  that  the  heathen  over 
the  sea  that  threw  the  girl  babies  to  the  croco- 
diles were  doing  it  in  hopes  of  killing  out  the 
girl  breed,  so  the  little  new  babies  would  have  to 
be  boys.  A  heathen  is  anybody  that  lives  on  the 
other  side  of  the  map  from  us. 

Another  good  thing  about  a  man  is  he  can 
say,  "Damn  that  telephone!"  Rufe  says  it 
whenever  he's  busy  and  it  bothers  him,  but 
Cousin  Eunice  can't.  All  she  can  do  is  to  have 
sick  headache  when  she  gets  worn  out. 

I  know  one  tired  lady  whose  husband  is  a  busy 
doctor  and  whose  baby  is  a  busy  baby,  and  lots 
of  times  the  lady  has  to  stop  up  her  ears  to  say 
her  prayers.  And  she  hardly  ever  has  time  to 
powder  her  face  unless  company  is  coming,  but, 
sick  or  well,  she  has  to  answer  that  telephone! 
She  says  it  is  a  disheartening  thing  to  have  to 
take  her  hands  out  of  the  biscuit  dough  when 
the  cook's  brother  has  died  and  go  to  the  tele- 
30 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

phone  in  a  big  hurry  where  folks  tell  her  every 
symptom  of  everything  they  have,  from  abscess 
on  the  brain  to  ingrowing  toe-nails.  And  she 
never  gets  the  baby  well  lathered  in  his  bath  of 
a  morning  but  what  some  of  her  lady  friends 
call  her  up  and  she  has  to  sit  and  talk  for  polite- 
ness' sake  till  the  baby  almost  drowns  and  gets 
soap  in  his  eyes. 

She  tries  to  believe  in  New  Thought  though, 
and  some  days  she  "goes  into  the  silence."  This 
means  wrapping  the  telephone  up  in  a  counter- 
pane and  stuffing  up  the  door-bell  until  it  can 
make  only  a  hoarse,  choking  noise.  Then  she 
spanks  the  baby  and  puts  him  to  bed,  and  that 
house  is  like  the  palace  of  the  Sleeping  Beauty. 

Yes,  women  certainly  seem  to  have  a  hard 
time  in  this  life.  Even  when  they  marry  rich 
and  live  in  a  hotel  and  never  have  any  babies 
they  seem  to  be  worse  tired  than  the  ones  that 
warm  bottles  of  milk  and  peel  potatoes.  Some 
of  them  that  Cousin  Eunice  knows  are  called 
"bridge  maniacs,"  and  they  shrug  their 
31 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

shoulders  and  say  "What's  the  use?"  if  you 
suggest  anything  to  them. 

I  have  been  home  from  Cousin  Eunice's  now 
for  two  weeks,  for  the  stylish,  private  school  I 
went  to  up  there  lets  out  soon.  Mammy  Lou 
says  I'm  the  worst  person  to  break  out  in  spots 
she  ever  saw,  and  one  of  my  "spots"  last  sum- 
mer was  keeping  this  diary,  which  I  did  for  a 
while  very  hard  and  fast.  Now  a  whole  year 
has  passed  and  it  is  summer  again  and  I  am  so 
lonesome  that  I  believe  I'll  write  a  little  every 
day  and  tell  some  of  the  things  we  did  at  Rufe's 
last  winter.  If  any  of  you  grandchildren  who 
read  are  afflicted  with  that  trouble  of  doing 
things  by  fits  and  starts  you  may  know  who  you 
inherited  it  from.  I'm  not  really  to  blame  so 
much  for  neglecting  you,  my  diary,  for  all  the 
time  I  needed  you  most  last  winter  you  were 
lost.  This  is  a  terrible  habit  that  all  my 
things  have — getting  lost.  My  garters  do  it 
especially  and  I  have  to  tear  great  holes  in  my 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

stockings  by  pinning  them  up  and  then  forget- 
ting to  stand  stiff -kneed. 

Rufe  told  mother  last  fall  that  I  was  so  pre- 
cocious, which  I  looked  up  in  the  dictionary  and 
admired  him  very  much  for,  that  I  ought  to  be 
where  I  could  have  good  teachers.  So  after  he 
and  Cousin  Eunice  had  been  married  long 
enough  to  be  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  a  third 
party  at  the  breakfast  table  they  wrote  for  me 
to  come  and  I  went. 

I  was  kinder  disappointed  to  see  them  look- 
ing like  every-day  folks  again,  for  the  last  time 
I  had  seen  them  they  were  looking  as  they  had 
never  looked  before  and  never  will  look  again, 
for  Rufe  says  he'll  be  hanged  if  anybody  can 
get  him  to  appear  in  that  wedding  suit  any 
more. 

But  oh,  that  wedding !  And  oh,  that  wedding 
march  played  on  a  thundering  pipe-organ  that 
makes  cold  chills  run  up  and  down  your  back 
thinking  what  if  it  was  happening  to  you !  When 
the  time  comes  for  "I  will"  you  nearly  smother, 
33 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

you're  so  afraid  they  might  change  their  minds 
at  the  last  minute  and  embarrass  you  half  to 
death  right  there  before  all  those  people. 

They  didn't  change  their  minds  then,  though, 
nor  since  then  either,  I  honestly  believe.  They 
married  safe  and  sound,  and  Cousin  Eunice's 
favorite  book  now  is  1,001  Tried  Recipes.  And 
Keats  is  lots  of  times  covered  with  dust. 

I  got  this  far  last  night  when  Mammy  Lou 
passed  by  my  window  on  her  way  to  her  house 
from  the  kitchen  and  stopped  long  enough  to 
make  me  go  to  bed.  She  says  it  takes  a  sight  of 
sleep  and  a  "passel  o'  victuals"  for  a  girl  of  my 
age,  and  I  don't  have  enough  of  either. 

"I'se  shore  goin'  'er  tell  Mis'  Mary  how  you 
set  up  uv  a  night,"  she  said,  very  fiercely,  but 
she  couldn't  shake  her  finger  at  me  for  it  took 
both  hands  to  hold  the  big  pan  she  had  under 
her  apron.  "An'  as  fer  eatin'!  Why,  a  red 
bug  eats  more!  An'  such  truck!  Candy  and 
apples  and  fried  chicken  and  fried  Saratoga 
chips!  Fries  nuvver  was  no  good  for  nobody 
34 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

at  the  gawky  age,  nohow.  It  takes  boils  to  fat- 
ten them !" 

I  promised  I'd  go  on  to  bed  and  eat  nothing 
but  "boils"  to  please  her  if  she  wouldn't  tell 
father  atid  mother  how  late  I  sit  up,  so  she 
promised.  She  never  would  tell  anyhow. 

I  believe  the  next  thing  I  wanted  to  mention 
about  was  the  theaters  they  used  to  take  me  to 
on  Friday  night  when  there  wasn't  any  lessons. 
I  just  love  the  theater.  I  believe  if  I  don't  de- 
cide to  be  a  trained  nurse,  although  I  am  sure 
that  is  what  I  was  cut  out  for,  I  may  be  an 
actress.  When  they  used  to  tell  me  pitiful  tales 
at  Sunday-school  about  the  heathen  I  was  sure 
I  wanted  to  be  a  missionary  to  Japan.  Mother 
used  to  take  me  to  a  tea  store  with  her  every 
time  we  went  into  the  city  to  buy  things  we 
couldn't  get  at  home  and  the  walls  were  covered 
with  pictures  of  Japan.  I  never  will  forget  how 
blue  the  sky  was  nor  how  white  the  clouds,  and 
it  seemed  the  loveliest  country  in  the  world  to 
me,  except  home.  And  I  would  look  at  mother 
35 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

and  wonder  how  she  would  feel  if  I  told  her  that 
some  day  I  was  going  to  leave  her  and  father 
and  sail  away  to  that  beautiful  land  where  the 
poor,  ignorant  people  didn't  know  how  to  wear 
corsets  nor  eat  hog  meat.  Of  course  they  needed 
somebody  to  tell  them  what  they  were  missing 
and  I  was  eager  to  be  that  one ! 

That  was  a  long  time  ago!  I  know  more 
about  Japan  now !  I  know  more  about  America 
too!  Doctor  Gordon  said  one  night  last  winter 
that  if  some  of  the  missionaries  were  to  go  all 
over  this  country  and  tell  folks  to  open  their 
windows  and  stop  murdering  their  babies  with 
candy  and  bananas  they  would  do  more  good 
than  trying  to  teach  the  Japanese  so  much.  He 
said  he  didn't  know  which  was  the  more  heathen- 
ish, to  throw  children  in  the  river  and  let  them 
have  a  quick  death  or  stuff  them  on  fried  meat 
and  pickles  and  let  them  die  by  slow  torture. 

The  mothers  are  hard  to  teach,  he  says,  be- 
cause they  don't  more  than  leave  the  doctor's 
office  with  a  poor  little  pale  baby  than  they  meet 
36 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

an  old  woman  who  tells  them  not  to  let  the  child 
be  doctored  to  death,  to  "feed  'im."  They  will 
tell  the  mother  "Didn't  /  have  eleven?  And 
everything  7  et,  they  et!" 

He  told  us  so  many  stories  of  murdered  babies 
that  I  got  to  feeling  like  I'd  prefer  being  a 
nurse  in  a  day  home.  I  love  babies !  And  Doc- 
tor Gordon  has  the  loveliest  eyes! — But  I 
haven't  got  to  him  yet. 

Speaking  of  the  theater,  I  got  to  see  many 
notorious  people  on  the  stage  this  winter.  Ruf  e 
said  I  would  get  a  great  variety  of  ideas  from 
the  best  plays.  I  did.  I  got  a  great  variety  of 
Ideals  too.  One  time  he  would  be  tall,  fair  and 
brave,  with  a  Scotch  name,  like  Marmaduke 
Cameron,  or  Bruce  MacPherson.  Then  the  very 
next  time  I'd  go  he'd  change  his  looks  and  dis- 
position. 

I  loved  some  of  the  operas,  too,  especially  II 

Trovatore.     I  wish  the  singers  were  slender, 

though.     It  hurts  your  feelings  to  have  the 

" voice  that  rang  from  that  donjon  tower"  be- 

37 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

longing  to  a  great  fat  man  with  no  head  to 
speak  of,  and  what  he  has  consisting  mainly  of 
jaws.  Of  all  the  songs  on  record  (not  phono- 
graphic record )  next  to  Dixie  and  La  Paloma  I 
believe  I  love  Ah,  I  have  sighed  to  rest  me!  The 
words  to  this  are  not  so  loving,  but  the  tune  is  so 
pitiful. 

I  wish  my  name  was  Dolores  Lovelock,  or 
Anita  Messala,  and  I  could  get  shut  up  in  a 
tower.  I  have  a  girl  friend  in  the  city  and 
every  time  we  write  to  each  other  we  sign  the 
name  we're  wishing  most  was  ours  at  that  very 
minute.  Her  last  letter  was  signed  "Undine 
Valentine,"  but  I  don't  think  that's  half  as 
pretty  as  Mercedes  Ficediola. 

It  wouldn't  hardly  be  worth  while  for  me  to 
change  my  name  now,  because  I  change  my  mind 
so  often.  I'm  a  g~eat  hand  to  start  a  thing  and 
then  branch  off  a. id  start  something  entirely 
different,  such  as  learning  how  to  make  the  table 
walk,  and  pyrography.  Cousin  Eunice  said  one 
day  when  she  looked  around  at  the  things  I  had 
38 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

in  my  room  that  it  reminded  her  of  Pompeii 
when  they  dug  it  up — so  many  things  started 
that  never  would  be  finished. 

One  of  the  things  we  enjoyed  most  at  Cousin 
Eunice's  was  walking  out  to  a  lovely  old  ceme- 
tery not  very  faT  from  her  house.  It  is  so  old 
and  so  beautiful  that  you're  sure  all  the  people 
in  the  graves  must  have  gone  to  Heaven  long 
ago.  Along  in  April,  when  the  iris  and  lilies- 
of-the-valley  are  in  bloom  and  the  birds  and 
trees  and  sky  all  seem  to  be  so  happy,  you  look 
around  at  those  peaceful  graves  and  you  don't 
believe  in  hell  one  bit.  You  think  God  is  a  heap 
better  than  folks  give  Him  credit  for  being.  But 
I  hope  this  will  never  come  to  Brother  Sheffield's 
ears,  for  he  thinks  you're  certainly  going  there 
if  you  don't  believe  in  a  hell  worse  than  the 
Standard  Oil  Company  on  fire. 

While  I'm  on  this  kind  of  subject  I  want  to 

tell  something  that  Rufe  said  last  winter,  but 

I'm  afraid  to,  for  if  mother  ever  saw  it  she  would 

get  Brother  Sheffield  to  hold  a  special  meeting 

39 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

for  Rufe.  I  might  risk  it  and  then  lock  my 
diary  up  tight.  Rufe  said  one  time  when  I  re- 
marked that  I  liked  St.  John  better  than  St. 
Paul :  "No  wonder !  St.  John's  liver  was  in  good 
working  order !" 

Cousin  Eunice  and  Rufe  are  still  very  earnest 
and  study  deep  things,  even  if  they  don't  read 
Keats  so  much.  They  know  a  jolly  crowd  of 
people  that  call  themselves  "Bohemians."  Lots 
of  nights  some  of  them  would  come  to  Cousin 
Eunice's  and  we  would  cook  things  in  the 
chafing-dish  and  "discuss  the  deeper  problems  of 
life."  They  are  not  real  Bohemians  though, 
for,  from  what  they  said,  I  learned  that  a  real 
Bohemian  is  a  person  that  is  very  clever,  but 
nobody  knows  it.  He  "follows  his  career,"  eat- 
ing out  of  paper  sacks  and  tin  cans  and  sleep- 
ing on  an  article  that  is  an  oriental  couch  in  the 
daytime.  Then  finally  some  rich  person  finds 
him  and  invites  him  to  dinner,  and  this  is  called 
"discovering  a  genius." 

When  our  friends  would  come  we  would  talk 
40 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

about  the  "Brotherhood  of  Man"  and  the  North 
Pole  and  such  things  as  that.  I  listen  to  every- 
thing I  can  hear  about  the  North  Pole  for  I 
never  have  got  over  the  idea  that  Santa  Claus 
lives  there.  And  the  "Brotherhood  of  Man" 
means  we're  all  as  much  alike  as  biscuits  in  a 
pan,  the  only  difference  being  in  the  place  where 
we're  put ;  and  we  ought  to  act  accordingly. 

Some  of  the  young  ones  talk  a  great  deal 
about  how  the  children  of  the  nation  ought  to  be 
brought  up,  and  they  tell  about  what  their  fam- 
ily life  is  going  to  be  like,  though  Rufe  says 
most  of  them  haven't  got  salary  enough  to  sup- 
port a  cockroach. 

I  think  the  "Brotherhood  of  Man"  business 
is  a  good  thing  to  teach  children,  for  I  wasn't 
taught  it  and  I  shall  never  forget  my  feelings 
when  I  first  learned  that  Christ  was  a  Jew !  I 
thought  it  couldn't  be  so,  and  if  it  was  so  I 
could  never  be  happy  again.  So  the  Bohemians 
are  going  to  teach  their  children  that  the  Jew 
is  our  brother  and  that  he  hath  eyes  and  if  you 
41 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

prick  him  he  will  bleed.  These  are  their  own 
words.  I'm  sure  the  Jews  are  lovely  people  since 
I've  seen  Ben-Hur  on  the  stage  and  the  picture 
of  Dis — Disraeli.  That's  all  I  know  about  him 
and  I'm  not  sure  how  to  spell  that.  I'll  skin  my 
children  if  I  ever  catch  them  saying  "Sheenie" 
in  my  presence. 

And  we  make  limericks !  We  don't  make  them 
in  the  chafing-dish  though,  as  I  thought  when  I 
first  went  there.  A  limerick  is  a  very  different 
thing  from  what  you'd  think  if  you  didn't  know. 
It's  a  verse  of  poetry  that's  very  clever  in  every 
line. 

Among  the  Bohemians  I  liked  best  were  a  mar- 
ried couple  and  Ann  Lisbeth.  Besides  having 
the  same  name  as  mine,  Ann  Lisbeth  is  a  beau- 
tiful foreign  girl  who  was  living  across  the 
ocean  when  she  was  born.  Her  last  name  is 
something  that  Disraeli  is  not  a  circumstance  to, 
and  I'd  never  spell  it,  so  I  won't  waste  time  try- 
ing. She's  going  to  get  rid  of  that  name  pretty 
soon  and  I  don't  blame  her,  although  Cousin 
42 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Eunice  says  it  is  a  noble  one  across  the  ocean. 
Still  I  don't  blame  her,  for  the  man  is  a  young 
doctor,  Doctor  Gordon  that  I've  already  men- 
tioned, and  perfectly  precious.  Next  to  a 
prince  I  believe  a  young  doctor  is  the  most  thrill- 
ing thing  in  the  world ! 

Ann  Lisbeth  lived  near  Cousin  Eunice  and 
they  were  great  friends.  She  and  her  mother 
were  very  poor  because  they  got  exiled  from 
their  home  for  trying  to  get  Ann  Lisbeth's 
father  out  of  prison  where  the  king  had  put 
him.  Oh,  the  people  across  the  ocean  are  so 
much  more  romantic  than  we  are  in  this  coun- 
try! Now,  father  wouldn't  ever  get  put  in 
prison  in  a  lifetime ! 

Ann  Lisbeth  has  to  work  for  a  living.  She 
does  embroidery — exquisite  embroidery,  and 
lace  work  that  looks  like  charlotte  russe.  She 
is  the  kind  of  looking  girl  that  you'd  expect  to 
have  a  dressing-table  covered  with  silver  things 
and  eat  marshmallows  and  ice-cream  all  the 
time.  She  is  what  Cousin  Eunice  calls  a  "lotus- 
43 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

eater."  This  like  to  have  worried  me  to  death 
at  first,  for  I  misunderstood  it  and  imagined  it 
was  something  like  eating  roaches.  I  wasn't  go- 
ing to  blame  Ann  Lisbeth  for  it  even  if  it  was 
like  roaches,  for  I  thought  maybe  it  was  the 
style  in  her  country  across  the  ocean.  What 
is  one  nation's  style  would  turn  another's  stom- 
ach ;  and  everybody  likes  what  he  was  raised  on, 
even  Chinese  rats  and  Limburger  cheese. 

It  was  very  romantic  the  way  Ann  Lisbeth 
met  Doctor  Gordon.  She  had  gone  down  to  the 
florist's  one  slippery  day  to  spend  her  last  quar- 
ter for  white  hyacinths  to  cheer  her  mother  up 
when  she  had  the  good  fortune  to  slip  down  and 
break  her  arm.  Doctor  Gordon  happened  to  be 
passing  at  the  time  in  his  automobile  and  he 
carried  her  to  the  hospital  and  fixed  the  arm. 
He  said  white  hyacinths  were  his  favorite  flower, 
too,  so  he  sends  them  to  her  and  her  mother 
every  day. 

Poor  Doctor  Gordon!  He's  having  a  hard 
time  to  make  a  living  like  every  other  young 
44 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

doctor.  He  says  sometimes  he  has  a  whole 
month  of  blue  Mondays  come  right  together. 
And  he  says  every  time  he  happens  to  wake  up 
with  a  headache  he  also  has  a  blowout  in  his 
best  tire  and  gets  a  notice  from  the  bank  that 
he's  overdrawn  the  same  day. 

I  liked  him  extremely  well  myself  for  a  while, 
and  he  seemed  to  like  me.  He  called  me  his  little 
sweetheart,  but  I  soon  saw  that  a  little  sweet- 
heart has  to  take  a  big  back  seat  when  there's  a 
grown  one  around. 

Mother  and  I  have  been  laughing  all  day 
about  a  little  affair  that  happened  here  last 
winter  while  I  was  away  at  school. 

After  Christmas  mother  and  father  went  back 
to  stay  at  Rufe's  with  me  a  few  days,  for  they 
said  the  place  was  so  lonesome  when  I  left  they 
couldn't  stand  it.  Of  course  they  met  Doctor 
Gordon  and  Ann  Lisbeth,  for  we  were  always 
at  each  other's  house,  either  to  learn  a  Mount 
Mellick  stitch  or  to  play  a  piece  from  a  new 
opera.  Mother  liked  Ann  Lisbeth's  sweet  ways 
45 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

so  much  that  she  said  she  just  must  come  down 
and  make  her  a  visit  before  she  thought  of  get- 
ting married. 

About  the  time  for  the  first  jonquils  to  bloom, 
early  in  February,  mother  wrote  that  they  re- 
minded her  so  much  of  me  and  made  her  so 
lonesome,  that  she  wished  Ann  Lisbeth  would 
come  on  then.  So  she  packed  her  suit-case  and 
went. 

Everybody  knows  how  the  people  in  a  little 
place  will  look  at  a  stranger  that  comes  in,  be- 
cause they're  so  tired  of  looking  at  each  other. 
So  they  stared  at  her  from  the  station  clear  up 
to  the  house.  Now,  city  people  never  get  any 
enjoyment  out  of  staring  unless  they  see  some- 
body in  trouble,  such  as  an  unfortunate  young 
man  with  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  trying  to  re- 
pair a  puncture,  by  the  side  of  a  muddy  road. 
Then  they  stare,  and  giggle  too. 

There  were  several  young  men  at  the  station 
that  day,  and,  as  Ann  Lisbeth  went  down  there 
not  breathing  to  a  soul  that  she  was  engaged, 
46 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

they  came  near  losing  their  minds  over  her  beau- 
tiful skin  and  foreign  accent. 

The  one  of  them  that  seemed  to  be  most  im- 
pressed was  a  bore — no,  he  wasn't  just  an  every- 
day kind  of  bore  that  asks  you  if  this  is  your 
first  visit  to  that  place  and  tells  you  afterward 
that  he  never  has  been  so  impressed  in  his  life 
on  short  acquaintance.  I've  heard  Cousin  Eunice 
talk  about  them,  but  this  man  wasn't  like  that 
sort  of  bore.  He  was  a  perfect  auger.  Many 
a  time  when  he  has  dropped  in  to  see  father  of 
an  evening  and  I  would  have  to  put  my  book 
down  for  politeness'  sake,  I've  sat  there  and 
pinched  my  face,  the  side  that  was  turned  away 
from  him,  till  it  was  black  and  blue,  to  keep 
awake.  Pinching  your  arm  or  leg  wouldn't  have 
done  any  good  with  this  man — you  had  to  pinch 
up  close  to  your  brain. 

All  the  time  Ann  Lisbeth  was  there  he  showed 

so  plainly  that  he  was  coming  to  see  her  that 

mother  and  father  would  go  out  and  leave  them 

alone,  though  father  said  he  felt  so  sorry  for 

47 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

her  that  he  promised  always  to  do  something  to 
run  him  off  by  ten  o'clock.  Every  man  knows 
how  to  do  these  things,  I  believe,  such  as  taking 
off  his  shoes  loud  and  telling  mother  to  wind  the 
clock,  in  a  stagey  voice,  and  making  a  great 
racket  around  the  front  door.  And  when  the 
young  man  would  hear  these  signs  he  would 
leave. 

Right  in  the  midst  of  Ann  Lisbeth's  visit  one 
day  she  got  a  telegram  from  Doctor  Gordon 
saying  that  he  was  coming  down  that  evening 
and  leave  on  the  midnight  train.  This  is  a  sure 
sign  a  man  cares.  He  couldn't  stand  it  any 
longer.  Well  this  Mr.  W.  (I'll  call  him  that  for 
fear  his  grandchildren  might  feel  hard  toward 
mine  if  it  ever  got  to  their  ears  that  I  had  spelt 
his  name  right  out)  had  said  he  was  coming 
over  that  night  to  bring  some  new  records  for 
the  talking  machine,  to  try  them;  but,  when 
Ann  Lisbeth  told  mother  about  Doctor  Gordon 
coming,  mother  telephoned  him,  Mr.  W.,  I  mean, 
not  to  come  till  the  next  night  when  father 
48 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

would  be  at  home,  as  he  wanted  to  hear  the 
records. 

Sure  enough  father  did  have  some  business 
out  in  the  country  that  afternoon  and  didn't  get 
home  until  about  ten  o'clock  that  night.  He 
heard  voices  as  he  passed  the  parlor  door,  and 
thinking  of  course  it  was  Mr.  W.,  decided  that 
he  would  run  him  off  right  away  so  poor  Ann 
Lisbeth  could  get  some  sleep. 

Mother  was  already  asleep  and  there  was  no 
way  for  him  to  know  who  it  really  was  in  the 
parlor,  so  he  took  his  shoes  off  and  slammed 
them  down  in  vain,  and  rattled  out  the  ashes, 
and  wound  the  clock,  and  coughed  and  sneezed. 
By  this  time  he  was  awfully  sleepy,  for  it  was  a 
cold  night  and  he  had  had  a  long  drive,  so  he 
went  to  bed  and  to  sleep. 

Along  about  twelve  o'clock  father  woke  up, 
and  seeing  a  light  still  in  the  parlor,  tried  to  get 
mother  roused  up  long  enough  to  ask  her  what 
else  she  supposed  he  might  use  besides  dynamite 
to  run  that  fellow  off.  Mother  was  still  so  sleepy 
49 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

that  she  didn't  say  anything,  so  father  got  out 
of  bed  and  opened  his  bedroom  door.  There 
were  voices  talking  very  easy  in  the  parlor,  so 
father,  thinking  that  surely  Ann  Lisbeth  would 
be  ready  to  commit  suicide  by  this  time,  decided 
he  would  walk  to  the  front  door  and  open  and 
shut  it  real  loud,  knowing  that  would  run  him 
off,  without  waiting  to  slip  on  his  trousers. 

Now,  father  is  long  and  lank,  and  wears  old- 
timey  bob-tail  night-shirts,  winter  and  summer ; 
and  all  the  rooms  of  our  house  open  square  into 
that  one  big  hall — and  there  are  no  curtains  to 
hide  behind ! 

Just  as  father  reached  the  front  door  and  be- 
gan tampering  with  the  lock,  out  walked  the 
happy  pair  from  the  parlor  and  they  must  have 
had  a  mighty  tumble  off  of  Mount  Olympus  or 
Pegasus,  or  whatever  that  place  is  called.  They 
jumped  back  as  quickly  as  they  could,  but  of 
course  they  couldn't  get  back  quickly  enough  to 
suit  all  parties  concerned. 

Father  finally  got  the  door  open  and,  to  keep 
50 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

from  having  to  pass  the  parlor  door  again,  he 
ran  clear  around  that  big,  rambling  house,  bare- 
footed, and  with  the  February  moon  shining 
down  on  him  and  the  February  wind  whistling 
through  his  little  bob-tail  night-shirt. 

The  noise  of  so  many  doors  opening  and  shut- 
ting made  mother  wake  up  in  a  hurry,  and,  be- 
ing used  to  father's  ways  of  leaping,  then  look- 
ing afterward,  she  realized  what  had  happened. 

Poor  father  came  around  to  the  side  porch 
and  scratched  on  the  bedroom  door  for  mother  to 
let  him  in.  By  this  time  she  was  so  near  dead 
from  laughing  that  she  could  hardly  speak,  but 
managed  to  use  her  voice  a  little,  just  to  pay 
him  back  for  doing  such  an  idiotic  thing,  she 
said. 

She  opened  the  bedroom  door  a  little,  so  Doc- 
tor Gordon  and  Ann  Lisbeth  could  hear,  then 
called  out  in  a  loud,  distressed  voice: 

"Oh,  Dan !  Have  you  come  home  in  that  con- 
dition again?" 

Everybody  that  knows  father  knows  that  he 
51 


THE    ANNALS   OF   ANN 

never  drank  a  drop  of  anything  stronger  than 
soothing-syrup  in  his  life ;  and  when  he  had  met 
Doctor  Gordon  in  the  city  they  hadn't  been  able 
to  get  off  the  subject  of  prohibition,  they  both 
were  so  temperate.  It  was  a  terrible  thing  to  be 
called  "in  that  condition"  before  him! 

But  mother  let  him  in,  and  Doctor  Gordon 
caught  his  train  back  to  the  city  where  he  sent 
father  at  least  two  dozen  funny  post-cards  on 
the  subject  of  "that  condition." 


CHAPTER  III 

I  ALWAYS  did  admire  surprises,  my  diary, 
so  when  mother  came  in  from  the  station 
one  day  not  long  ago  and  said  there  was  a 
surprise  for  me  I  thought  sure  it  must  be  a 
dessert  for  dinner,  or  a  package  come  by  ex- 
press, as  it  isn't  Christmas  for  anything  to  be 
in  the  toe  of  my  stocking.  But  mother  shook 
her  head  and  smiled  at  all  of  these.  She  said  it 
was  a  heap  better,  and  it  is. 

A  curious  thing  has  happened  in  this  family. 
It's  happened  a  little  to  father,  for  he's  kept 
awake  by  it ;  a  good  deal  to  mother,  for  she  has 
to  tell  how  to  tend  to  it ;  an  awful  lot  to  Dilsey, 
for  she  has  to  walk  it  and  feed  it  and  get  it  to 
sleep ;  but  it  has  happened  most  of  all  to  Bertha, 
for  it's  to  her  that  the  stork  (or  the  doctor,  or 
53 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

out  of  the  rose  bush — they  tell  you  so  many  dif- 
ferent tales  you  never  know  which  to  believe) 
brought  it.  Just  about  that  time  Bertha  hap- 
pened not  to  be  feeling  very  well,  so  mother 
wrote  for  her  to  come  down  to  our  house  where 
the  air  would  be  good  for  her,  and  then  she 
would  have  Dilsey  to  tend  to  it.  You'd  never 
guess  what  it  is,  my  diary,  so  I'll  tell  you.  It's  a 
baby !  A  live  one  with  open  and  shut  eyes,  and 
can  cry ;  you  don't  have  to  pull  a  string  to  make 
it,  either.  This  makes  it  better  than  even  the 
finest  doll,  and,  as  I'm  above  dolls  anyhow,  a 
baby  is  more  suitable  to  one  of  my  age.  The 
only  bad  part  about  it  is  that  you  can't  lock  it 
up  in  the  wardrobe  when  you  get  through  play- 
ing with  it.  Sometimes  I  have  wished  it  was  the 
kind  you  had  to  pull  a  string  to  make  cry,  and 
then  I'd  cut  the  string  off  so  we  would  have  a 
few  peaceful  nights,  but  apt  as  not  this  wouldn't 
be  healthy  for  it,  for  I  guess  the  stork  (or  the 
doctor,  or  out  of  the  rose  bush)  knew  best  how 
to  fix  it. 

54 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Mr.  Parkes  is  the  baby's  father,  and  also 
Bertha's  husband.  He  is  one  of  the  nicest  men 
you  ever  saw,  pleasant  all  the  time,  which 
people  say  is  because  he's  a  drummer  which  sells 
things.  He  carries  valises  full  of  lovely  crackers 
and  little  cakes  with  icing  on  the  top,  and  calls  it 
his  "line."  I've  heard  Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice 
talk  about  "lines  falling  in  pleasant  places," 
and  I  think  it  must  mean  something  like  this, 
for  our  house  has  been  a  pleasant  place  since 
Saturday  night  when  he  came  to  spend  Sunday 
with  us  and  Bertha.  Some  days  he  sells  as  much 
as  five  hundred  dollars  worth  of  cake  to  one 
man,  though  I  don't  see  what  keeps  him  from 
dying  that  bought  them  of  stomach  ache,  for 
I've  had  it  myself  since  he's  been  here  consider- 
able. He  and  father  talk  a  heap  about  Mr. 
Parkes'  "house"  in  the  city.  He  writes  to  the 
house  every  day  and  it  writes  back  to  him,  and 
he  is  always  saying  what  he'll  do  "when  he  hears 
from  the  house,"  just  like  it  was  folks. 

He  wears  an  elk's  head  on  the  lapel  of  his  coat 
55 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

for  an  ornament  and  another  on  his  watch  chain, 
and  even  has  a  pair  of  purple  socks  with  white 
elks  on  them,  and  laughs  a  good  deal,  which  has 
been  a  benefit  to  Bertha's  disposition  since  she 
married  him.  If  the  baby  wakes  up  and  cries 
for  her  bottle  as  late  as  eleven  o'clock  at  night, 
which  would  give  most  men  room  to  say  things, 
he's  just  as  jolly  as  if  it  was  broad  daylight,  and 
says  so  loud  you  can  hear  him  in  the  next  room : 
"Tonsound  her  little  skin!  Her  is  her  daddy's 
own  kid — her  knows  that  eleven  o'clock  calls  for 
a  bottle,  only  daddy  wants  his  cold,  and  her 
wants  hers  warmed!"  And  out  to  the  kitchen 
he  goes  and  warms  it  like  a  gentleman.  I  be- 
lieve Mr.  Parkes  would  be  a  gentleman  even  if 
he  had  twins. 

Of  course  there  never  is  any  good  happens  to 
your  family  without  something  bad  happening 
along  with  it.  A  misfortune  was  sent  to  us  one 
morning  when  the  train  came.  It  was  Aunt 
Laura,  mother's  sister,  and  Bertha's  and  my 
aunt.  It  is  a  habit  of  hers  to  come  to  our  house 
56 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

every  summer,  but  this  time  she  came  before  we 
were  looking  for  her,  having  got  mad  at  the 
relatives  where  she  was.  So  she  has  changed  her 
will  and  is  going  to  leave  all  her  money  to 
Bertha's  baby,  and  she  told  mother  that  she 
came  right  on  down  as  soon  as  she  decided  on 
this  to  see  if  the  baby  was  a  nice,  well-behaved 
child,  as  it  didn't  run  in  the  family  for  the  chil- 
dren to  be  any  too  well-behaved ;  and  she  looked 
at  me  when  she  said  the  last.  Bertha  was  in  a 
flutter  when  she  heard  it,  but  mother  just 
laughed  and  said  the  baby  was  equally  as  well- 
behaved  as  most  eight-weeks-old  children. 

Aunt  Laura  has  spit-curls,  but  a  great  deal  of 
money,  having  been  a  school  teacher  ever  since 
she  was  born,  and  never  spending  her  money 
ruying  her  little  nieces  candy  and  pretty  dresses. 
She  admires  church  and  preachers  more  than 
anything,  but  I  don't,  and  when  the  money  was 
willed  to  me  one  time  I  lost  my  chance  by  saying 
at  the  table  when  Brother  Sheffield  was  there 
eating  chicken  and  said  he  liked  the  gizzard, 
57 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

right  quick,  before  I  thought  of  manners, 
"Father,  don't  give  it  to  him — he  ain't  little !" 
The  money  has  been  willed  to  every  member  of 
the  family,  for  she  gets  mad  at  one  and  unwills 
it  away  from  them  onto  another,  until  we've  all 
had  a  trial. 

But  the  poetry  books  say  it's  a  black  cloud 
that  don't  blow  somebody  a  silver  lining,  and  I 
guess  the  silver  lining  to  Aunt  Laura  is  that 
she's  in  love  with  Brother  Sheffield,  which  will 
give  me  a  good  many  new  thoughts  to  write 
about;  for  before  when  I  was  writing  about 
couples  it  was  always  the  man  that  was  trying 
to  marry  the  lady,  but  now  it's  the  other  way, 
which  you  can  always  count  on  when  you  see 
spit-curls.  Even  this  is  better  to  write  about 
than  just  a  baby,  though,  for  they  mostly  do 
the  same  thing  day  after  day ;  but  you  can  never 
tell  what  a  loving  person  will  do  to  thrill  your 
diary. 

It  was  till  plumb  breakfast  time  this  morning 
before  Aunt  Laura  made  known  to  us  what  new 
58 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

thing  she's  got  up  to  talk  about  all  the  time. 
Father  calls  it  a  "fad."  He  said  the  minute  he 
saw  her  come  he  was  willing  to  bet  on  anything, 
from  the  latest  breakfast  food  to  an  Aunty 
Saloon  League,  but  mother  told  him  it  was  sin- 
ful to  bet  about  such  things,  for  last  summer  it 
was  foreign  missions.  It  is  just  as  well  that  he 
didn't  bet,  for  he  would  have  lost,  it  being  the 
heart  disease  which  she  has  very  bad.  She  said 
she  didn't  tell  us  right  at  first  because  she  knew 
we  didn't  care  anything  about  hearing  it,  but  she 
thought  we  better  be  prepared  in  case  a  spell 
came  on  her  suddenly,  for  she  had  felt  worse 
symptoms  lately  than  ever  before.  Bertha  had 
acted  awful  good  all  day  and  not  let  the  baby 
cry  nor  slobber  on  Aunt  Laura  for  the  sake  of 
the  will. 

I  guess  I've  been  worse  this  last  week  than 
ever  before,  for  it  is  the  first  time  I've  been 
ashamed  to  tell  what  I've  done  in  my  diary. 
Bertha  knows  if  Aunt  Laura  could  get  Brother 
Sheffield  to  marry  her  she  would  unwill  the 
59 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

money  from  the  baby ;  so  she  thinks  up  things  to 
tell  me  to  do  to  keep  them  from  being  together, 
and  I've  been  doing  them.  One  time  I  hid  her 
purple  Sunday  bonnet,  then  her  curls  to  keep 
her  from  going  to  prayer-meeting,  but  I'm  glad 
to  say  that  I  have  never  taken  the  dimes  which 
Bertha  said  she  would  give  me  for  doing  them. 
I  hate  Aunt  Laura  enough  to  do  mean  things  to 
her  myself,  which  is  a  better  principle  than  to 
do  them  just  for  dimes. 

This  is  Sunday  again  and  I  have  to  go  to 
church.  Somehow,  during  the  summer,  Sunday 
smells  like  black  silk,  for  mother  and  all  the 
ladies  that  can  afford  it  wear  it  to  church  to  let 
the  others  see  how  well  off  they  are.  When  I 
was  right  little  and  got  tee-ninsy  cards  at  Sun- 
day-school I  imagined  Heaven  looked  like  those 
cards,  all  lilies-of-the-valley  and  little  pink 
lambs,  but  since  I've  grown  older  my  views  have 
changed.  Preachers  always  think  you  can't  go 
to  Heaven  unless  you  do  just  like  they  do,  and  I 
60 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

couldn't  be  like  a  preacher  to  save  my  life,  ex- 
cept about  chicken. 

Aunt  Laura  had  to  look  all  over  the  place  for 
her  black  silk  waist  this  morning  and  then  not 
find  it,  so  she  got  into  a  bad  spell  and  couldn't 
go  to  church.  After  the  sermon  was  over  and 
we  were  trying  to  forget  it  by  standing  around 
and  telling  the  other  ladies  how  much  fruit  we 
had  put  up  this  past  week,  Brother  Sheffield 
came  up  and  asked  mother  if  Aunt  Laura  was 
sick,  not  being  out  to  services.  Mother  said  she 
was,  but  she  hoped  to  find  her  all  right  when  we 
got  home,  as  she  never  was  sick  very  long,  and 
I  knew  she  would  be  well  because  it  was  ice- 
cream for  dinner.  He  said  then  he'd  be  over  to 
see  her  this  afternoon  as  he  hadn't  seen  her  in 
so  long. 

Well,  it  was  awfully  hot  all  the  afternoon, 
and,  as  he  wouldn't  be  over  till  late  so  as  to  be 
invited  to  supper,  Aunt  Laura  decided  to  take 
off  her  front  hair  and  have  a  nap  after  dinner. 
Now,  up  to  this  time  I  have  been  afraid  to  men- 
61 


I 
THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

tion  even  in  my  diary  about  Bertha's  bad  habit. 
I  really  like  Bertha  better  than  I  did  before  she 
was  married,  and  I  knew  if  Aunt  Laura  was  to 
catch  on  to  it  she  would  change  from  the  baby 
right  away,  for  Brother  Sheffield  calls  it  "the 
trade-mark  of  Jezebel,"  which  is  a  Bible  lady, 
though  the  preachers  always  throw  her  up  to 
anybody  they  don't  like.  So  Bertha  keeps  this 
locked  away  good  in  the  little  left-handed 
drawer  of  her  bureau,  and  don't  anybody  but  me 
know  it's  there. 

It  was  getting  late  when  brother  Sheffield 
drove  up  to  the  gate.  He  is  an  old  man  and  his 
knees  are  so  poor  that  they  look  like  they  would 
punch  through  his  trousers  legs  if  he  was  to  get 
down  on  them  to  ask  a  lady  to  marry  him,  as 
they  do  in  books.  In  fact,  I  have  stayed  around 
the  parlor  and  watched  considerable,  thinking 
how  mortified  I'd  feel  if  they  were  to  punch 
through,  but  he  hasn't  ever  got  down  on  them 
yet.  His  name  is  Gideon,  which  makes  it  worse 
for  him,  too.  Cousin  Eunice  said  Ann  Lisbeth's 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

name  is  a  very  old  one  in  the  country  across  the 
ocean  where  she  used  to  live,  but  I  know  there 
ain't  an  older  name  on  earth  than  Gideon.  Aunt 
Laura  ought  to  have  been  named  the  feminine  of 
it,  instead  of  that  beautiful  name  that  has  so 
much  lovely  poetry  written  about  it. 

Anyhow,  I  was  surprised  that  she  wasn't 
dressed  up  in  a  clean  waist  and  down  on  the 
front  porch  to  meet  him,  but  I  went  up-stairs 
right  quick  to  tell  her  he  was  there.  She  was 
still  asleep  and  woke  up  as  mad  and  red  as  folks 
always  do  that  go  to  sleep  in  the  summer.  I 
told  her  he  was  already  on  the  porch. 

"Well,  help  me  get  dressed,  won't  you,  instead 
of  standing  there  staring  at  me  as  if  you  never 
saw  anybody  with  their  front  hair  off  and  their 
upper  plate  out  before?  Run  to  the  well  and 
bring  me  some  fresh  water,  and,  say,  come  back 
by  your  mother's  room  and  bring  me  her  box  of 
powder  and  puff.  I  spilt  all  of  mine  looking  in 
the  drawer  this  morning  for  that  pestiferous 
waist.  Hurry !" 

63 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

I  ran  to  the  well  and  got  the  water,  but  com- 
ing back  by  mother's  room  I  saw  that  Brother 
Sheffield  was  facing  the  door  and  would  have 
seen  me,  which  wouldn't  have  been  nice  to  bring 
out  a  box  and  puff  before  a  man,  much  less  a 
preacher,  so  I  didn't  get  the  powder.  I  told 
Aunt  Laura  to  get  Bertha's,  when  she  com- 
menced fussing,  for  I  had  passed  her  room  and 
saw  that  she  had  dressed  in  a  big  hurry  and  left 
the  bureau  unlocked,  the  room  being  very  hot 
and  dark,  the  baby  being  asleep,  on  account  of 
the  flies.  She  hushed  then  and  said  for  me  to  go 
down  and  tell  him  that  she  would  be  out  in  a  few 
minutes,  which  I  did.  I  left  him  on  the  porch 
fanning  while  I  went  out  to  a  little  place  I  have 
under  the  porch  where  it  is  nice  and  quiet  and 
they  can't  find  you  reading  fairy  tales  when 
they  want  you  for  something ;  but  you  can  hear 
them  talking. 

Pretty  soon  Aunt  Laura  came  out,  and  in  her 
dressed-up  voice  commenced  telling  him  how 
sorry  she  was  that  she  kept  him  waiting.  But 
64 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

before  she  had  more  than  got  it  said  he  asked  her 
excited-like  what  was  the  matter  with  her.  It 
seemed  like  when  he  got  excited  she  did  too,  so 
she  grabbed  her  stomach  (not  that  I  saw  her, 
but  I  know  she  always  does  it  here  lately  when 
she  gets  mad  or  scared)  and  said: 

"Oh,  my  heart !    It  must  be  the  heart  disease !" 

He  interrupted  her  again,  a  heap  too  quick 
and  sharp  for  a  preacher : 

"Your  heart  nothing!  Go  and  look  at  your 
face!" 

That  was  more  than  I  could  stand,  so  out 
from  under  the  porch  I  slid,  just  in  time  to  see 
Aunt  Laura,  with  her  face  as  red  as  the  In- 
dians they  have  in  sideshows,  turn  and  run  into 
the  hall  where  she  could  look  at  herself  in  the 
hat-rack  looking-glass.  She  gave  one  tremend- 
ous yell  which  woke  the  baby  and  made  the  rest 
of  the  family  come  flying  in  from  where  they 
were.  It  wasn't  a  minute  before  me  and  Brother 
Sheffield  were  in  the  hall  with  her  and  mother 
and  father  running  in  off  of  the  back  porch, 
65 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

and  Dilsey  with  the  baby  in  her  arms  leaning 
over  the  banisters  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

"It's  my  death  stroke,"  Aunt  Laura  said,  just 
like  she  knew  what  she  was  talking  about.  "The 
doctor's  books  say  it  comes  on  this  way,"  she 
kept  on,  while  the  preacher  fanned  her  and  we 
were  all  flying  around  doing  things  for  her,  and 
me  standing  still  wondering  how  on  earth  come 
her  face  so  fiery  red.  "Thank  Heaven,  I  die  in 
the  conviction  of  having  lived  a  good  life,  and 
willed  all  my  money  to  the  only  member  of  my 
family  that  has  ever  treated  me  with  any  re- 
spect." This  did  look  kinder  like  the  truth,  for 
the  baby  was  the  only  member  of  the  family 
which  was  crying  over  this  sad  occasion ;  but  she 
was  very  loud  and  hard. 

"I've  been  visited  by  Providence  with  a  curi- 
ous family,"  poor  Aunt  Laura  said,  looking  very 
mad  toward  father  and  mother,  "but  they  will 
soon  have  cause  to  regret  all  their  strange  ways 
with  me.  If  there  was  one  person  in  this  world 
that  did  care  for  me,  to  that  one  should  my  will 
66 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

be  changed,  for  there  is  little  consolation  in 
leaving  your  property  to  a  baby." 

Brother  Sheffield  here  spoke  up  and  said  as 
Aunt  Laura  "so  fully  realized  her  hopeless  con- 
dition he  thought  they  better  have  some  conver- 
sation together  as  to  her  spiritual  welfare.  He 
desired  a  few  moments  alone  with  her." 

"Yes,"  said  Aunt  Laura  right  quick,  "private 
conversation.  My  soul's  safety  is  not  to  be  dis- 
cussed in  the  presence  of  my  enemies !" 

So  out  we  all  got,  me  along  with  the  rest  of 
them,  which  was  a  great  disappointment,  for  I 
could  have  learned  a  good  deal  if  there  had  been 
any  way  of  staying  in  there.  They  talked  a  long 
time  and  we  could  hear  a  few  remarks  now  and 
then,  being  as  we  couldn't  think  of  anything  to 
say  ourselves,  and  it  was  very  still  on  the  porch. 
Once  or  twice  we  heard  her  say  very  decided-like 
that  indeed  she  -wasn't  mistaken,  for  every  book 
she  had  read  on  the  subject  said  it  was  exactly 
that  kind  of  a  symptom.  And  then  he  would 
talk  some,  and  one  time  he  seemed  to  doubt  her 
67 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

word  so  that  she  fairly  yelled  out,  the  way  she 
does  when  he  ain't  around:  "Can  you  doubt  the 
hideous  mark  of  death  that  has  this  hour  ap- 
peared upon  my  face?  Isn't  it  proof  that  my 
flesh  is  being  prepared  for  the  worms?"  which 
did  sound  pitiful  and  scary,  too,  it  being  kinder 
dark  on  the  porch.  This  seemed  to  do  the  work, 
for  in  a  few  minutes  she  called  us  in  and  told  us 
that  Brother  Sheffield  had  asked  her  to  marry 
him,  and  although  she  had  never  before  consid- 
^ered  him  in  the  light  of  a  lover,  still  she  was 
going  to  do  it  if  the  Lord  let  her  live  an  hour, 
while  father  could  ride  over  for  a  preacher  and 
she  could  change  her  will.  Brother  Sheffield  was 
crying  like  he  does  when  he  is  calling  mourners, 
and  his  voice  would  hardly  talk,  but  he  man- 
aged to  say: 

"Yes,  she  has  done  me  the  honor  to  accept  me ; 
she,  a  woman  of  intellect  and  wealth,  and  me, 

only  a  poor,  humble  worker "    He  couldn't 

get  any  further,  but  I  had  heard  it  so  many 

times  before  that  I  knew  it  was  "humble  worker 

68 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

of  the  vineyard,"  though  father  says  he  is  more 
of  a  hungry  eater  of  the  barnyard. 

When  Aunt  Laura  mentioned  about  being 
married  in  an  hour  Brother  Sheffield  seemed  to 
take  a  second  thought,  and  spoke  up  kinder  weak 
and  said  he  didn't  know  whether  it  was  exactly 
right  to  be  married  on  Sunday  or  not.  When 
Aunt  Laura  saw  him  begin  to  weaken  it  brought 
on  such  a  hard  spell  that  she  laid  back  on  the 
sofa  with  her  eyes  shut,  like  she  was  sure  enough 
dead.  This  really  scared  mother,  and  she  told 
Mammy  Lou,  who  had  her  head  poked  in  at  the 
back  door,  to  run  for  some  water.  Mammy 
brought  the  bucket  in  off  the  back  porch  and 
commenced  sousing  it  over  Aunt  Laura  by  the 
handsful,  which  didn't  bring  her  to;  but  a 
strange  thing  happened,  which,  if  it  wasn't  me 
that  saw  it,  anybody  would  think  it  was  a  story, 
but  I  cross  my  heart  that  the  water  that 
dribbled  down  off  her  face  on  to  her  clean  waist 
was  pink! 

"Jumping  Jerusalem !"  father  said,  "the  heart 
69 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

disease  is  washing  off !"  This  made  Aunt  Laura 
open  her  eyes,  and  by  that  time  Mammy  Lou 
had  got  a  towel  and  was  wiping  her  face  off  all 
over,  which  seemed  to  make  it  look  natural 
again.  Not  one  of  us  knew  what  to  think  of 
such  a  strange  disease  till  all  of  a  sudden  I  re- 
membered Bertha's  bad  habit !  And  then  I  knew 
it  was  all  off  with  Aunt  Laura  and  the  marry- 
ing. It  wasn't  very  long  till  they  all  caught  on 
to  what  it  was  on  her  face ;  and  the  worst  part 
of  it  was  that  Brother  Sheffield  said  he  believed 
she  did  it  a-purpose.  He  rose  up  very  proud, 
and  looking  kinder  relieved  and  said  he  could 
never  marry  a  woman  who  would  "defile  herself 
with  the  trade-mark  of  Jezebel." 

When  he  commenced  throwing  up  Jezebel  to 
Aunt  Laura  she  threw  up  Esau  to  him,  which 
sold  himself  for  a  "mess  of  pottage,"  though 
this  never  did  sound  lady-like  to  me,  even  com- 
ing from  the  pulpit.  So  Esau  went  out  and 
drove  straight  home,  and  Jezebel  went  up-stairs 
and  packed  her  trunk  to  go  home  early  in  the 
70 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

morning,  never  having  been  so  insulted  by  rela- 
tives before  in  her  life. 

So  the  marrying  is  off  and  the  baby  is  disin- 
herited, which  will  be  a  relief  to  it  when  it  gets 
big  enough  to  understand.  But  the  worst  part 
is  that  Aunt  Laura  blames  the  whole  thing  on 
me,  for  she  says  I  had  her  ruination  in  mind 
when  I  sicked  her  on  to  that  little  left-handed 
drawer.  Of  course  it  ain't  so,  but  it  proves 
that  people  ought  to  raise  the  blind  and  be  sure 
it's  whitening  they're  spreading  on,  even  if  the 
baby  is  asleep. 


CHAPTER  IV 

YOU  remember,  my  diary,  a  good  many 
pages  back  I  mentioned  in  here  a  pair 
of  Bohemians  that  were  married  to  each  other 
and  were  friends  of  ours  and  would  come 
to  Rufe's  every  week  and  we  would  all  do  funny 
things  ?  Well,  I  couldn't  write  about  them  then, 
for  I  didn't  have  any  space  for  married  people, 
wanting  to  save  it  purely  for  folks  that  loved 
each  other.  But  now  it  does  seem  like  Provi- 
dence that  they've  come  down  here  to  spend  the 
summer  in  the  country,  for  there's  not  a  single 
loving  soul  left  to  write  about,  Aunt  Laura  be- 
ing gone  and  Brother  Sheffield  never  very  loving 
when  she  was  here,  except  chicken. 

Their   name   is   Mrs.   Marie   and   Augustus 
Young.    Father  says  that  Adam  or  the  legisla- 
72 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

ture  knew  a  thing  or  two  when  it  named  them 
Young.  He  is  a  professor  and  owns  a  chair  in  a 
college  that  must  either  have  gold  nails  in  it  or 
sit  extra  good,  for  Rufe  says  it  is  worth  five 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  Mrs.  Young  sings 
vocal.  I  wish  she  didn't,  especially  in  a  parlor. 
If  anybody  is  singing  or  reciting  a  speech  on  a 
platform  and  flowers  and  electric  lights  it  thrills 
you  and  you  really  en j  oy  it ;  but  if  they  do  it 
in  a  close  room,  especially  if  it  trills  high  or  has 
to  kneel  down  and  get  red  in  the  face,  it  makes 
you  so  ashamed  for  the  one  that's  doing  it,  and 
for  yourself,  too,  that  you  look  straight  at  the 
carpet.  Even  then  the  blood  rushes  to  your 
head. 

They  have  built  a  house  with  such  a  wide 
porch  running  all  around  it  that  it  reminds  you 
of  a  little,  tiny  boy  with  a  great  big  hat  pulled 
down  over  his  eyes,  which  is  called  a  bungalow. 
They  said  they  had  brought  a  "complete  outfit 
for  light  housekeeping"  along  with  them,  but 
when  mother  saw  it  she  laughed  considerable  on. 
73 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

the  outside  of  the  bungalow,  for  it  was  fifty- 
three  books,  mostly  ending  in  "ology,"  a  ham- 
mock and  some  chairs  that  lean  away  back,  a 
guitar  apiece,  a  great  many  little  glass  cases 
that  you  stick  bugs  and  butterflies  in  if  you  can 
catch  them,  a  picture  of  the  Apostle  Hosea, 
with  his  head  all  wrapped  up  like  an  old  lady 
with  the  neuralgia,  which  they  both  said  they 
could  not  live  without,  and  a  punching-bag, 
which  they  punched  a  great  deal  in  the  city,  not 
having  any  baby  to  amuse  themselves  with, 
which  was  a  good  thing  for  the  baby  I  reckon. 
So  mother  sent  them  over  a  great  many  things 
and  Professor  Young  said  she  was  the  most  sen- 
sible woman  he  ever  saw,  including  a  biscuit 
board  and  a  sifter.  They  have  been  here  a  few 
days  now  and  are  delighted  with  the  country  air 
and  the  green  scenery,  and,  although  it  does 
seem  proud  to  say  it,  me.  They  thought  very 
highly  of  me  at  Cousin  Eunice's  and  said  I  was 
the  most  "interesting  revelation  of  artless  juve- 
nile expression"  they  ever  saw,  which  I  wrote 
74 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

down  on  paper  and  when  I  came  home  taught  it 
to  Mammy  Lou  to  give  in  at  the  experience 
meeting. 

One  morning  early,  while  mammy  was  beat- 
ing the  biscuit  for  breakfast,  and  I  was  up  in 
the  pear  tree  right  by  the  kitchen  door  I  nearly 
fell  out  with  surprise  when  I  saw  Professor 
Young  coming  around  the  house  with  a  pretty 
shirt  open  at  the  neck  that  he  admires  and  two 
great  big  dominecker  roosters  up  in  his  arms 
which  were  both  squawking  very  loud.  Mammy 
Lou^came  to  the  door  to  see  what  all  the  noise 
was  about,  and  he  said  she  was  the  very  person 
he  wanted  to  see. 

"Auntie,"  he  commenced,  trying  to  get  into 
his  pocket  and  wipe  his  face  with  his  handker- 
chief, which  was  greatly  perspiring,  but  he 
couldn't  do  it  for  the  roosters,  "my  wife  and  I 
are  in  a  quandary.  We  are  both  ignorant  of 
the  preferred  method  of  inflicting  a  painless  yet 
instantaneous  death  upon  a  fowl." 

Mammy's  eyes  began  to  shine,  for  she  loves 
75 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

big  words  like  she  loves  watermelons,  and  with- 
out a  sign  of  manners  she  never  even  tried  to 
answer  his  question,  but  looked  up  at  me  in  the 
tree  and  says : 

"Baby,  kin  you  rickollect  all  that  to  write  it 
down  ?" 

Professor  Young  then  looked  up  into  the  tree 
too  and  says :  "Why,  Mistress  Ann,  how  entire- 
ly characteristic !"  And  then  he  wanted  to  know 
what  book  I  was  reading  and  I  told  him,  John 
Halifax,  Gentleman,  which  I  have  had  for  my 
favorite  book  since  I  was  eleven  years  old;  and 
the  roosters  continued  to  squawk.  I  got  down 
then  and  asked  Professor  Young  if  he  wouldn't 
come  into  the  house,  but  he  said  no  and  asked  his 
question  to  mammy  over  again.  She  looked  at 
me  and  to  save  her  manners  I  told  her  right 
quick  what  the  meaning  of  it  was,  me  under- 
standing it  on  account  of  being  precocious  and 
also  at  Rufe's  last  winter,  where  they  use 
strange  words. 

"Thar  now!  Is  that  all  it's  about?"  she 
76 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

asked  awfully  disappointed,  for  she  thought 
from  the  words  "painless  death"  it  must  be 
something  about  preaching.  Then  in  a  minute, 
when  she  saw  that  he  was  still  waiting,  she 
turned  around  to  him  and  said:  "Whar  is  the 
chicken  at  that  you  want  killed?" 

He  held  the  roosters  away  from  him  and, 
looking  at  them  as  proud  as  a  little  boy  looks  at 
a  bucket  of  minnows,  he  said : 

"These  are  they !" 

This  tickled  mammy  so,  and  me  too,  though  I 
remembered  my  manners,  that  she  began  to 
laugh,  which  shook  considerable  under  her 
apron,  and  said : 

"Well,  gentlemen!  Whut  do  you  want  to  kill 
them  for?" 

"For  breakfast,"  he  said;  and,  noticing  her 
laughing,  his  face  got  to  looking  so  pitiful  all 
in  a  minute  that  it  made  me  just  wish  that  Cin- 
derella's fairy  godmother  would  come  along 
and  turn  those  roosters  into  nice  little  pullets 
.all  fried  and  laying  on  parsley. 
77 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

"Why,  Mr.  Professor,"  mammy  told  him, 
"them  roosters  is  so  old  that  they  will  soon  die 
a  natural  death  if  you  leave  them  alone;  and 
they're  so  big  that  you  might  fry  'em  f rum  now 
till  breakfast  time  on  Jedgment  Day,  and  then 
they  wouldn't  be  fitten !" 

When  she  told  him  this  he  did  manage  to  get 
out  his  handkerchief,  I  thought  maybe  to  cry 
on,  he  looked  so  disappointed,  but  it  was  just 
to  perspire  on. 

"I — er,  observed  that  they  were  unduly 
large,"  the  poor  man  told  her,  "but  I — er, 
thought  maybe  the  larger  a  country  thing  was 
the  better !" 

I  thought  of  horse-flies  and  ticks,  but  was  too 
mannerly  to  mention  them,  especially  so  near 
breakfast  time.  Just  then  mother  and  father 
came  out  of  the  back  door,  and  when  they  heard 
the  tale  of  the  roosters  they  both  invited  him  to 
come  right  in  and  have  breakfast  with  us,  and 
said  they  would  tie  their  legs  together  so  they 
could  flop  around  the  back  yard,  but  couldn't 
78 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

get  away,  and  I  could  run  over  and  bring  Mrs. 
Young. 

Last  night  when  I  got  home  I  was  too  tired 
to  write  or  anything  else,  for  it  was  the  night  of 
the  glorious  Fourth!  Professor  Young  and 
Mrs.  Young  both  kept  remarking  all  day  how 
lovely  it  was  to  be  able  to  spend  the  Fourth  of 
July  in  a  cool  ravine  instead  of  in  the  horrid 
city  where  there  were  so  many  smells  of  gun- 
powder and  little  boys.  They  said  they  must 
have  me  go  along  for  the  woods  wouldn't  really 
be  woodsy  without  me,  as  I  was  the  genius  loci. 
I  didn't  know  at  first  what  that  was,  but  I  know 
now  that  it  makes  you  tired  and  perspiry  to  be 
the  genius  loci  of  eight  miles  of  woods  on  the 
Fourth  of  July.  Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice 
couldn't  think  of  half  as  many  peculiar  things 
to  do  when  they  were  courting  as  the  Youngs. 

We  ate  a  number  of  stuffed  eggs  which 
kinder  made  up  for  the  tiredness,  me  being  very 
fond  of  them,  but  Professor  Young  is  crazy 
79 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

about  Mrs.  Young's  singing  voice  and  every 
time  we'd  come  to  an  extra  pretty  place  he 
would  say:  "Marie,  my  love,  sing  something 
just  here,"  so  we'd  have  to  stand  still  on  our 
legs,  it  often  being  too  snaky  to  sit  down,  while 
she  sang.  One  time  she  thought  up  part  of  a 
song  without  a  speck  of  tune  to  it,  and  it  was 
in  a  language  across  the  ocean.  All  I  could 
make  out  was  "Parsifal,"  and  every  once  in  a 
while  she  would  stop  a  minute  in  the  song  and 
say  a  word  that  sounded  like  "Itch,"  though  I 
don't  suppose  it  was,  being  in  a  song.  Every 
time  she  would  say  itch  he  would  scratch,  for  the 
poor  man  was  covered  with  ticks. 

But  the  most  trying  thing  was  the  bugs  and 
butterflies,  which  being  "naturalists"  they 
caught.  We  had  to  run  all  over  the  ground 
and  sides  of  the  hills  for  them,  and  empty  our 
dinner  out  on  a  nice,  shady  rock,  so  we  could 
use  the  lunch  box  to  put  them  in.  When  we 
got  back  we  found  it  all  covered  with  ants,  but 
we  were  so  hungry  we  thought  we'd  brushed 
80 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

them  all  off,  though  in  the  cake  we  found  we 
hadn't.  If  a  person  hasn't  ever  eaten  an  ant, 
my  diary,  there  ain't  any  use  in  trying  to  make 
them  understand  what  they  taste  like,  so  I  won't 
dwell  on  that.  Professor  Young  said  though  he 
was  willing  to  eat  them  for  the  sake  of  his  be- 
loved science,  though  I  don't  see  how  it  helped 
science  any. 

Toward  evening  we  got  to  a  fine  place  in  the 
branch  to  wade  and  Mrs.  Young  said,  oh,  let's 
do  it ;  it  would  remind  us  of  our  childhood  days. 
So  we  soon  had  our  feet  bare,  with  our  thoughts 
on  our  childhood  days,  and  never  once  stopping 
to  remember  that  we  didn't  have  a  thing  to  wipe 
them  on.  Nobody  said  so  much  as  towel  until 
we  got  out,  and  then  it  was  too  late,  so  we  were 
very  much  pained  and  annoyed  every  step  of  the 
way  home  on  account  of  our  gritty  feet. 

Another  morning  early  we  decided  to  go  out 

and  see  the  sun  rise,  like  Thoreau.     (They  tell 

me  how  to  spell  all  the  odd  words.)    We  went  up 

to  the  tiptop  of  a  high  hill,  and  when  the  sun 

81 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

was  just  high  enough  to  make  you  squint  your 
eyes  Mr.  Young  remarked  that  he  realized  his 
life  was  "replete  with  glorious  possibilities,"  and 
he  said  in  such  moments  he  felt  that  he  could 
"encompass  his  heart's  desire."  He  said  he  fain 
would  be  a  novelist.  Now,  this  is  the  only  sub- 
ject they  ever  fall  out  about,  for  he's  always 
wanting  to  be  something  that  he  is  not.  Last 
winter  when  he  met  Doctor  Gordon  at  Rufe's  he 
decided  he  wanted  to  be  a  doctor,  for  he  said 
they  could  always  make  a  living,  no  matter 
where  they  were,  while  a  poor  college  professor 
had  to  stay  wherever  he  had  a  chair  to  sit  in. 
So  he  went  to  a  store  where  you  buy  rubber  arms 
and  legs  and  things  and  bought  a  long  black 
bag  like  Doctor  Gordon's,  full  of  shiny,  scary- 
looking  scissors  and  knives  which  cost  seventy- 
five  dollars,  to  lay  away  till  fall  when  the  doc- 
tor's school  opened  up  again.  In  two  weeks 
Mrs.  Young  had  got  the  store  man  to  take  the 
things  back  for  half  price  because  Professor 
Young  had  decided  he  wanted  to  study  banjo 
82 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

playing  instead  of  doctoring  and  had  bought  a 
banjo  trimmed  with  silver. 

She  knew  whenever  he  said  he  wanted  to  be 
anything  it  would  cost  as  much  as  two  new 
dresses,  and  then  have  to  be  exchanged  for 
something  else,  so  she  asked  him  if  he  would 
have  to  buy  anything  to  begin  this  novel-writing 
business  with.  He  proudly  told  her  no,  for  his 
"Mother  Nature  had  endowed  him  with  a  com- 
plete equipment,"  and  he  thumped  his  forehead 
between  his  eyes  and  his  straw  hat.  Then  she 
told  him  to  go  on.  He  said  it  would  be  a  good 
time  to  get  material  from  the  study  of  the 
"primitive  creatures"  around  here  in  the  coun- 
try. 

I  hoped  these  "primitive  creatures"  were  not 
the  kind  of  insects  you  would  have  to  empty  the 
lunch  box  for,  nor  be  careful  not  to  pull  off 
their  hind  legs  while  you  were  catching  them, 
not  knowing  just  what  they  were. 

I  was  scared  good  when  he  said  he  thought 
the  girl  that  milked  Mrs.  Hedges'  cows  would 
83 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

be  a  good  one  to  begin  on.  He  said  if  Marie 
didn't  mind  he  would  go  over  to  the  farthest 
pasture  where  he  could  see  her  then  and  draw 
her  out  to  see  what  was  m  her!  This  sounded 
terrible  to  me,  knowing  that  he  used  some  sickly 
smelling  stuff  on  the  bugs  that  killed  them  be- 
fore they  had  time  to  say  a  word,  and  I  thought 
maybe  because  Emma  Belle  was  a  poor  serrant 
girl  he  was  going  to  do  her  the  same  waj. 

He  had  always  seemed  such  a  kind-hearted 
man  to  me,  and  I  saw  him  and  Emm»  Belle 
standing  at  the  fence  talking  and  he  was  not 
trying  to  hold  anything  to  her  nose,  still  I 
didn't  feel  easy  till  he  got  back.  Mrs.  Young 
asked  him  what  he  had  learned,  and  if  his  novel 
would  be  along  "socialistic  lines"  or  a  "romance 
in  a  simple  bucolic  setting."  That  "bucolic" 
reminded  me  of  Bertha's  little  innocent  baby, 
and  I  wished  I  was  at  home  nursing  it  eren  if 
it  did  cry,  rather  than  be  out  sun-rising  with 
such  a  peculiar  man.  He  said  it  would  be  a 
"pastoral,"  and  that  the  girl's  eyes  were  exact- 
84 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

iy  like  his  first  sweetheart's,  which  was  re- 
markable. Mrs.  Young  spoke  up  right  quick 
and  said  there  wasn't  anything  remarkable  in 
that,  because  all  common,  country  girls  looked 
alike  and  they  all  had  about  as  much  expression 
as  a  squash. 

We  haven't  been  out  early  acting  like 
Thoreau  any  more,  for  Mrs.  Young  said  it  was 
the  most  foolish  of  all  the  foolish  things  Augus- 
tus had  made  her  do,  and  he  could  continue  to 
associate  with  milkmaids  by  himself  if  he  wanted 
to,  which  he  has.  This  morning  she  came  over 
to  our  house  early  to  ask  mother  if  you  singed  a 
picked  chicken  over  a  blaze  or  what,  and  if  she 
didn't  think  Thoreau  was  an  idiot.  Mother 
said  jes,  you  did,  if  it  had  pin  feathers  on  it, 
and  she  didn't  know  much  about  Thoreau,  but 
she  preferred  men  that  paid  taxes  and  ate  off  of 
white  tablecloths.  Mrs.  Young  said  she  thought 
all  men  that  read  bugology  and  admired  pic- 
tures like  Hosea  were  a  little  idiotic  and  she 
wished  she  had  married  a  man  like  father. 
85 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Mother  said  well,  she  better  not  be  too  sure, 
for  they  all  have  their  faults. 

After  a  good  long  time  Professor  Young 
came  in,  not  finding  Marie  at  the  bungalow, 
looking  awful  hot  and  cross.  The  sight  of  him 
seemed  to  make  Mrs.  Young  feel  worse  than 
ever  and  she  told  him  she  had  just  come  over 
to  consult  mother  about  her  journey  home  to- 
morrow, although  she  hadn't  mentioned  it  to  us 
before.  She  went  on  to  say  that  he  might  spend 
the  rest  of  the  summer,  or  the  rest  of  his  life 
if  he  wanted  to,  boarding  over  at  Mrs.  Hedges' 
where  he  could  see  Emma  Belle  morning,  noon 
and  night,  instead  of  only  in  the  morning.  He 
said  why,  he  was  utterly  surprised  for  she 
hadn't  mentioned  such  a  thing  to  him  before, 
but  she  told  him  he  hadn't  spent  enough  time 
with  her  lately  even  to  know  whether  or  not  she 
still  retained  the  power  of  speech.  He  said  right 
quick,  oh,  he  never  doubted  that!  She  said,  well, 
she  was  going  and  he  needn't  argue  with  her. 
He  said  he  wasn't  going  to  argue,  he  was  only 
86 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

too  glad  to  leave  such  a  blasted  place,  for  he 
wanted  material  for  his  novel,  but  the  farmer's 
girl  he  had  talked  with  the  first  morning,  and 
the  plow-boys  he  had  been  associating  with  ever 
since  were  all  such  fools  he  couldn't  get  any 
material  from  them. 

The  minute  he  said  that  she  seemed  to  feel 
better  and  change  her  mind.  She  said  Augustus 
ought  to  be  ashamed  to  talk  that  way  about 
poor  ignorant  things  which  never  had  any  op- 
portunities !  He  said  he  wanted  to  go  back  to 
the  city  anyway  where  there  was  a  bath-tub,  but 
she  told  him  he  was  very  foolish  to  think  about 
leaving  such  a  cool,  "Arcadian"  spot;  their 
friends  would  all  laugh  at  them  for  coming 
back  so  soon.  She  said  she  had  merely  men- 
tioned going  back  for  his  pleasure,  for  all  the 
world  knew  how  she  loved  the  country.  He 
finally  said  he  loved  it  too,  so  they  would  stay, 
but  he  would  be  forced  to  give  up  novel-writing 
because  the  country  people  around  here  are  all 
fools. 

87 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

I've  heard  Professor  Young  talk  about  sit- 
ting in  a  college  chair  being  a  hard  life,  and 
Doctor  Gordon  says  doctoring  is  a  hard  life, 
and  Rufe  says  that  editing  is  a  hard  life,  but, 
my  diary,  between  you  and  me,  from  the  looks 
of  things  this  morning,  I  kinder  believe  that 
marrying  is  a  hard  life,  too. 


88 


CHAPTER  V 

DID  you  ever  think  what  a  dear  old  thing 
anybody's  black  mammy  is,  my  diary, 
especially  when  she's  done  all  the  cooking 
(and  raised  you)  for  twenty-five  years? 
Mammy  Lou  has  belonged  to  us  just  like  father 
and  mother  ever  since  we've  been  at  housekeep- 
ing, and  my  heart  almost  breaks  to-night  when 
I  think  of  the  fire  in  our  stove  that  won't  burn 
and  the  dasher  in  our  churn  that  is  still.  Ever 
since  I've  been  keeping  a  diary  I've  been  awfully 
glad  to  hear  about  anybody  being  in  love,  and 
took  great  pleasure  in  watching  them  and  writ- 
ing it  all  out,  for  I  could  always  imagine  it  was 
me  that  was  the  lady.  But  I  would  rather  never 
keep  a  diary  another  day  than  to  have  such  a 
thing  happen  to  Mammy  Lou. 
89 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

When  mother  heard  about  it  she  said  not  to 
be  an  old  fool,  but  Mammy  Lou  said,  "either 
Marse  Shakespeare  or  Marse  Solomon  said  a 
old  fool  was  the  biggest  fool  and  she  wasn't  go- 
ing to  make  him  out  no  lie.  So  marry  that 
Yankee  nigger  she  was !" 

Bill  Williams  first  came  here  to  teach  school, 
being  very  proud  and  educated.  Then  he  got  to 
be  Dilsey's  beau  and  they  expected  to  marry. 
When  he  first  commenced  going  to  see  Dilsey 
Mammy  Lou  would  cook  the  nicest  kind  of 
things  for  her  to  take  to  picnics,  hoping  to  help 
her  catch  him  in  a  motherly  way.  But  when  he 
started  to  promising  to  give  Dilsey  a  rocking- 
chair  and  take  her  to  "George  Washington"  if 
she  would  marry  him,  Mammy  Lou  changed 
about.  She  had  always  wanted  to  see  a  large 
city  herself,  and  she  thought  it  wasn't  any  use 
of  letting  Dilsey  get  all  the  best  things  in  life, 
even  if  she  was  her  child. 

Pretty  soon  she  commenced  wearing  red  rib- 
bon around  her  neck  and  having  her  hair  wrap- 
90 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

ped  fresh  once  a  week.  Then  she  told  him  she 
was  the  good  cook  that  cooked  all  the  picnic 
things,  and  ironed  all  of  Dilsey's  clean  dresses; 
also  that  she  had  seventy-five  dollars  saved  up 
that  she  would  be  willing  to  spend  on  a  grand 
bridal  trip  the  next  time  she  got  married. 
Mammy  Lou  is  a  smart  old  thing,  and  so  she 
talked  to  him  until  he  said,  well,  he  would  just 
as  soon  marry  her  as  Dilsey,  if  she  would  stop 
cooking  for  us,  and  cook  for  him  and  iron  his 
shirts  all  the  time.  She  promised  him  she  would 
do  this,  like  people  always  do  when  they're  try- 
ing to  marry  a  person,  although  it  looks  very 
different  afterward.  None  of  mammy's  other 
husbands  had  been  so  proud.  They  would  not 
only  let  her  cook,  but  would  come  around  every 
meal  time,  in  the  friendliest  kind  of  way,  and 
help  her  draw  a  bucket  of  water.  This  is  why 
the  whole  family's  heart  is  breaking  and  we  feel 
so  hungry  to-night.  She's  quit,  and  the  wed- 
ding is  to-morrow. 

This  morning  early  she  came  up  to  the  house 
91 


THE   ANNALS   OF   ANN 

to  ask  mother  if  it  would  be  excusable  to  take 
off  her  widow's  bonnet,  not  being  divorced  from 
Uncle  Mose  but  four  months ;  also  how  she  had 
better  carry  her  money  to  keep  Bill  from  get- 
ting "a  holt"  of  it.  She  said  she  wouldn't  trust 
any  white  Yankee  with  a  half  a  dollar  that  she 
ever  saw,  much  less  a  coffee-colored  one.  Mother 
was  so  mad  at  her,  and  so  troubled  about  the 
sad  biscuits  and  the  watery  gravy  at  breakfast 
that  she  said  she  hoped  he  would  steal  every  cent 
of  the  seventy-five  dollars  before  the  ceremony 
was  over,  and  maybe  that  would  bring  her  to 
her  senses. 

"And  me  not  to  get  to  go  to  George  Wash- 
ington!" mammy  said  in  a  hurt-like  voice. 
"Why,  Mis'  Mary!" 

"Where  is  this  George  Washington  r**  mother 
took  time  to  ask,  thinking  mammy  would  know 
she  was  just  poking  fun  at  her,  but  she  didn't. 

"Law !  Ain't  it  surprising  how  little  my  white 
folks  do  know!  Why,  it's  the  place  where  the 
president  and  his  wife  lives.  Mr.  Williams  is 
92 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

mighty  well  acquainted  with  the  president  and 
says  he's  shore  I  could  git  a  job  cooking  for 
the  fambly  if  I  was  'round  lookin'  for  jobs.  But 
I  ain't  to  cook  for  nobody  but  him  from  now 
on." 

Mother  didn't  encourage  her  to  talk  about 
her  love  and  matrimony  any,  so  she  took  me  by 
the  hand  and  we  went  out  and  sat  down  on  the 
kitchen  doorstep  and  had  a  long  conversation. 
She  seemed  mighty  sad  at  the  notion  of  leaving 
us,  but  was  so  delighted  at  the  idea  of  marrying 
a  young  man  (as  anybody  naturally  would  be) 
that  she  couldn't  think  of  giving  that  up.  Pretty 
soon  in  our  conversation  she  commenced  telling 
me  about  the  things  that  happened  many  years 
ago,  when  I  was  a  little  child,  like  they  say  folks 
do  when  they're  going  on  a  long  journey  or 
die. 

She  began  from  the  time  I  was  born,  and  said 

I  was  such  a  brown  little  thing  that  I  looked  like 

I  had  tobacco-juice  running  through  me  instead 

of  blood.     And  I  made  use  of  a  bottle  until  I 

93 


THE    ANNALS   OF   ANN 

was  four  years  old.  Because  I  was  the  only  one 
of  mother's  and  father's  children  that  lived  and 
was  born  to  them  like  Isaac  (/  don't  know  of 
any  special  way  that  Isaac  was  born,  but  two 
of  mammy's  husbands  have  been  preachers,  so 
she  knows  what  she's  talking  about)  they  let  me 
keep  the  bottle  to  humor  me.  It  had  a  long  rub- 
ber thing  to  it  so  I  would  find  it  more  conveni- 
ent. Mammy  said  the  old  muley  cow  was  just 
laid  aside  for  my  benefit,  they  thought  so  much 
of  me,  and  when  I  got  big  enough  to  walk  I'd  go 
with  her  into  the  cow-lot  every  hour  in  the  day 
and  drag  my  bottle  behind  me  to  be  milked  into. 
I  enjoyed  being  milked  into  my  mouth,  too,  if 
my  bottle  was  too  dirty  to  hold  it  just  then. 

Mammy  said  I  always  admired  the  sunshine 
so  much  that  I  would  sit  out  in  it  on  hot  days 
till  my  milk  bottle  would  clabber,  which  was  one 
cause  of  my  brownness.  When  I  found  out  I 
couldn't  draw  anything  up  through  the  rubber, 
being  all  clabbered,  I'd  begin  to  cry  and  run 
with  my  bottle  to  mammy.  And  she  would  quiet 
94 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

me  by  digging  out  all  the  clabber  with  a  little 
twig  and  feed  it  to  the  chickens.  They  got  to 
knowing  the  sound  of  me  and  my  bottle  rattling 
over  the  gravels  so  well  that  they'd  all  come  a 
running  like  they  do  when  they  hear  you  scrape 
the  plates. 

This,  of  course,  was  very  touching  to  us  both 
and  we  nearly  cried  when  she  talked  about  going 
off  to  Washington  where  the  people  are  too 
stylish  to  keep  a  muley  cow.  They  won't  even 
keep  a  baby  in  the  families  there,  but  the  ladies 
keep  little  dogs  and  get  divorces. 

Mother  wouldn't  go  to  the  wedding,  for  din- 
ner and  supper  were  worse  than  breakfast.  The 
rest  of  the  family  all  went  except  Dilsey,  who 
didn't  much  like  the  way  her  mother  had  treated 
her  about  Bill.  Professor  and  Mrs.  Young 
went,  being  still  down  there  and  a  great  pleasure 
to  us  all.  They  were  delighted,  being  raised  up 
North,  and  wanted  to  take  pictures  of  every- 
thing. Whenever  we  would  pass  a  cabin  door 
with  a  nigger  and  his  guitar  sitting  in  it  and 
95 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

picking  on  it  they  would  stop  and  say  that  it 
was  so  "picturesque."  And  the  real  old  uncles 
with  white  hair  and  the  mammies  with  their 
heads  tied  up  they  said  reminded  them  of 
"Aunty  Bellum  days." 

Everything  went  off  as  nice  as  could  be  ex- 
pected under  the  circumstances  until  the 
preacher  said,  "Salute  your  bride."  Then,  when 
Bill  started  to  kiss  her,  Mammy  Lou  laid  her 
hand  against  the  side  of  his  head  so  hard  you 
could  have  heard  the  pop  up  to  the  big  house 
and  said  she  would  show  him  how  to  be  impudent 
to  a  woman  of  sixty,  even  if  he  was  a  Yankee 
and  educated.  Everybody  passed  it  off  as  a 
joke,  but  the  slap  didn't  seem  to  set  very  well 
with  Bill,  being  nineteen  years  old  and  not  used 
to  such.  We  left  right  after  the  ceremony 
and  Mammy  Lou  and  the  others  walked  on  down 
to  her  house  to  wait  for  the  twelve  o'clock  train 
that  they  were  going  to  leave  on. 

Although  I  always  enjoy  going  to  places 
with  the  Youngs  on  account  of  the  curious 
96 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

words  and  the  camera  they  use,  and  although  it 
was  the  sixth  marriage  of  my  old  nurse,  which 
you  don't  get  a  chance  to  see  every  day,  still 
when  I  think  of  breakfast,  I  must  say  it  was  the 
saddest  wedding  I  ever  witnessed. 

This  morning  when  I  first  woke  up  and  heard 
that  regular  old  tune,  Play  on  Your  Harp, 
Little  David,  coming  so  natural  and  lifelike 
from  the  kitchen  I  thought  surely  it  must  be  a 
dream,  mammy  being  hundreds  of  miles  away  in 
Washington.  The  song  kept  on,  though,  just 
like  it  has  done  every  morning  for  twenty-five 
years,  mother  says : 

"Shad-rsich,  Mtf-shach,  Abed-ne-go, 
The  Lord  has  washed  me  white  as  snow," 

so  I  got  up.  It  never  does  take  me  a  minute  to 
wash  my  face  of  a  morning,  and  this  morning  it 
took  even  less  time.  I  hopped  into  my  clothes 
and  flew  down-stairs.  It  wasn't  any  dream! 
97 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

There  was  mammy,  not  looking  like  she  was  mar- 
ried nor  anything,  and  a  good,  cheerful  fire  in 
the  stove,  and  the  bacon  smelling  like  you  were 
nearly  starved.  I  didn't  ask  any  questions, 
but  just  said,  "Mammy,"  and  she  said,  "Baby," 
and  there  I  was  hugging  her  fit  to  turn  over  the 
churn.  I  asked  her  if  mother  knew  that  she 
come  back  and  she  said  no,  she  had  been  easy 
and  not  made  any  noise,  so  as  to  surprise  us  all. 
I  reckon  mother  and  father  are  so  used  to  hav- 
ing Shadrach,  Meshach  and  Abednego  wake 
them  up  of  a  morning  that  they  thought  it  was 
a  dream,  too.  Pretty  soon  they  heard  us  talk- 
ing though  and  came  in.  Mother  came  first,  for 
it  is  the  gentleman's  place  to  let  the  lady  go 
first  into  the  kitchen,  especially  when  they  think 
that  breakfast  is  to  be  got. 

Mother  said,  "What  are  you  doing  here?" 
and  Mammy  Lou  said,  "Getting  breakfast, 
Mis'  Mary,"  which  was  about  as  straightfor- 
ward as  they  could  have  been  with  each  other. 
Mother  asked  her  if  she  wasn't  still  married, 
98 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

and  she  said  no,  for  she  had  "had  occasion  to 
give  that  uppish  Yankee  nigge"r  a  good  whippin' 
las'  night."  And  then  she  went  on  to  say  that 
she  told  Dilsey  she  could  have  him  if  she  still 
wanted  him,  and  said  she  hoped  Dilsey  would 
take  him  for  she  would  just  admire  to  be 
mother-in-law  to  that  nigger. 

Just  then  father  came  in,  hearing  the  last  re- 
mark about  "that  nigger,"  and  asked  Mammy 
Lou  what  the  trouble  was  between  her  and  her 
new  husband.  Mammy  was  breaking  eggs  into 
the  big  yellow  bowl  which  she  was  going  to 
scramble  for  breakfast,  and  as  she  commenced 
telling  us  about  her  marrying  troubles  she  be- 
gan to  beat  them  very  hard,  which  seemed  to 
ease  her.  It  is  a  great  help  to  people  to  think 
of  their  enemies  when  they  are  beating  things, 
for  it  makes  them  beat  all  the  harder  and  don't 
really  hurt  the  enemies. 

Mammy  said  when  they  got  home  from  the 
wedding  she  started  to  change  her  white  dress 
and  veil  and  put  on  her  good  cashmere  dress  to 
99 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

ride  on  the  train  in.  Just  about  that  time  Mr. 
Williams  spoke  up  and  said  he  was  sleepy  and 
wanted  to  get  a  good  night's  rest  so  he  was  go- 
ing to  bed,  but  he  wanted  mammy  to  have  him  a 
nice  rare  steak  for  his  breakfast.  Mammy  then 
asked  him  if  he  had  been  born  a  fool  or  just 
turned  that  way  since  he  had  married  so  far 
above  his  station.  He  said  he  would  mighty  soon 
find  out  who  the  fool  was  in  that  family — and 
she  better  have  good  beaten  biscuits  to  go  with 
the  steak.  When  he  said  this  mammy  gave  him 
another  sample  of  her  strength  like  she  did  in 
the  church  and  told  him  to  get  out  of  there  and 
change  his  clothes  to  go  to  George  Washington. 
Then  he  gave  a  big  ha !  ha !  laugh  in  her  face, 
right  before  Dilsey  and  the  neighbors  and  said 
why,  didn't  she  know  that  George  Washington 
had  been  dead  and  buried  behind  the  church 
door  for  a  hundred  years?  He  kept  on  laugh- 
ing and  said  the  "ignorance  of  country  niggers 
is  really  amusable." 

Mammy  said  she  hated  to  do  it  with  her  veil 
100 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

on,  being  a  new  veil  and  she  hadn't  used  it  but 
twice,  but  she  couldn't  wait  to  take  it  off,  him 
grinning  like  a  picture-taking  man  at  his  funny 
joke.  All  his  teeth  were  showing,  and,  as  mammy 
had  always  admired  them  for  being  so  big  and 
white,  she  decided  she  would  keep  a  handful  to 
remember  him  by;  so  she  gave  him  one  good 
lick  in  the  mouth  with  her  wedding  slipper, 
which  was  large  and  easy  to  come  off.  This 
broke  a  good  half  of  his  front  tooth,  she  said, 
besides  drawing  a  lot  of  blood  to  relieve  her 
feelings.  While  he  was  busy  wiping  away  the 
blood  and  trying  to  open  his  eyes  enough  to  see 
candle-light  again,  mammy  sat  down  by  him, 
and,  before  he  knew  it,  she  had  dragged  him 
across  her  lap  and  was  paddling  him  like  he  was 
her  own  dear  son  instead  of  her  husband.  Then 
she  called  Dilsey  and  told  her  she  might  feel 
safe  about  marrying  him  nov,  if  she  still  wanted 
him,  for  he  had  better  sense  than  to  try  to  fool 
with  any  member  of  that  family  again.  Mammy 
Lou  said  of  course  she  couldn't  stay  married  to 
101 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

a  man  she  could  paddle.  She  was  too  much  of  a 
lady.  But  Dilsey  turned  up  her  nose  and  said 
she  wouldn't  have  any  second-hand  nigger, 
much  less  a  whipped  one. 

Father  spoke  up  then  and  said  she  couldn't 
give  Bill  to  Dilsey  without  getting  a  divorce 
from  him  first.  Mammy  Lou  said,  well,  Marse 
Sheriff  might  arrest  her  and  Marse  Judge  might 
fine  her,  but  she  would  see  them  all  in  the  place 
that  was  prepared  for  them  before  she  would 
waste  twenty-five  dollars  for  just  that  little 
speck  of  marrying ! 

Father  went  on  out  to  feed  the  chickens  and 
mother  went  to  wake  up  Bertha  (but  not  the 
baby)  for  breakfast,  and  Mammy  Lou  scraped 
the  eggs  into  the  dish  I  had  brought  her. 

"Divorce  nothin',"  I  heard  her  remark  as  she 
soused  the  hot  skillet  into  water  that  sizzled,  "I 
done  bought  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  o'  divorces 
already,  and  if  the  lawyers  wasn't  all  scribes 
and  Pharisees  they'd  let  that  run  me  the  rest  o' 
my  days." 

102 


CHAPTER  VI 

"TTULETIDE  in  the  Southland"  is  what 
X  Professor  Young  calls  it,  but  you 
would  never  know  from  the  sound  how 
nice  it  really  is.  It  means  that  the  Youngs 
have  come  down  to  the  bungalow  to  spend 
Christmas  and  have  brought  his  brother,  Julius, 
to  spend  it  too.  Now,  I  admire  Mr.  Julius 
Young,  both  his  name  and  his  ways.  He  no- 
ticed me  the  minute  he  got  off  the  train  and  said 
I  would  have  to  be  his  sweetheart.  Although  I 
have  learned,  from  being  so  deceived  by  Doctor 
Gordon's  remarks  like  that,  you  mustn't  depend 
on  what  they  say,  still  you  can't  help  but  like  a 
person  when  they  say  it  to  you. 

He  is  not  a  college  professor  like  his  brother, 
but  he  makes  his  living  drawing  pictures.    Now, 
108 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

the  bad  part  about  making  your  living  out  of 
poetry  or  art  is  that  so  often  you  don't  do  it. 
This  is  the  way  with  Julius.  He  draws  fully  as 
good  as  other  artists,  but  he  never  has  been  able 
to  get  people  to  notice  it.  Professor  Young 
says  his  work  lacks  "the  divine  spark,"  and  so 
the  poor  young  man  has  to  heat  his  coffee  over 
the  gas-jet,  like  they  always  have  to  do  in  piti- 
ful magazine  stories.  So  much  poetry  and  art 
have  made  him  real  thin,  with  strange  flannel 
shirts,  and  he  looks  half  like  a  writing  person 
and  half  like  a  hero  which  was  raised  out  West. 
He  doesn't  act  as  peculiar  as  he  looks,  though, 
laughing  as  jolly  as  Mr.  Parkes  if  anything 
funny  happens.  And  he  knows  so  much  about 
horses,  having  traveled  considerable,  that  father 
thinks  he  is  very  clever.  Father  says  you  can 
excuse  an  artist  with  horse  sense  better  than 
you  can  just  a  plain  artist. 

Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice  are  down  in  the  coun- 
try  too,  partly   at  our  house   and  partly  at 
Rufe's  folks'.     This  makes  a  nice  reunion  for 
104. 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

them,  being  as  Marcella,  Rufe's  sister,  is  home 
for  the  first  time  in  three  Christmases,  having- 
been  off  studying  how  to  play  on  the  piano. 

Ever  since  during  the  chestnuts  getting  ripe 
Marcella  has  been  good  friends  with  me,  for  she 
loves  the  outdoors,  and  there  wasn't  anybody 
but  me  that  had  the  time  to  spare  to  go  with 
her  through  the  woods.  She  felt  sorry  for  me, 
too,  not  getting  to  go  back  to  school  in  the  city 
this  fall,  and  so  she  has  taught  me  a  lot.  Mother 
and  father  said  they  just  couldn't  spare  me,  be- 
ing the  only  one  that  lived,  and  born  to  them  in 
their  old  age.  It  looks  like  if  my  brothers  and 
sisters  had  known  how  inconvenient  it  was  for 
me  to  be  the  only  child  they  would  have  tried 
a  little  harder  to  live. 

Marcella  is  not  pretty  in  a  blonde-headed  way, 
like  Ann  Lisbeth  and  Bertha,  but  her  hair  and 
eyes  are  as  dark  as  chocolate  candy  when  you've 
grated  a  whole  half  a  cake  in  it,  and  her  skin 
looks  like  cream  does  when  it's  nearly  ready  to 
churn.  She  wouldn't  go  with  me  and  Rufe  and 
105 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Cousin  Eunice  to  meet  the  Youngs  at  the  train, 
being  ashamed  on  Julius'  account,  I  reckon, 
both  being  single.  But  we  went  and  Professor 
and  Mrs.  Young  said  they  were  too  happy  for 
anything  to  be  back  in  the  country  again  for  a 
regular  old-fashioned  Christmas.  They  said 
they  were  going  to  do  everything  just  like  it 
used  to  be  in  old  England,  which  Professor 
Young  had  brought  a  book  along  to  read  about. 
They  said  this  book  would  "infuse  a  genuine 
Yule  spirit,"  but  if  they  had  scraped  as  many 
cake  pans  and  seeded  as  many  raisins  as  I  have 
they  would  have  more  of  that  spirit  now  than 
they  could  hold  without  a  dose  of  cordial. 

Well,  this  morning  we  collected  on  the  other 
side  of  the  creek  to  go  after  holly  to  decorate  the 
bungalow  with,  me,  the  Youngs,  and  Rufe  and 
Cousin  Eunice.  Julius  said  a  good  many  com- 
pliments about  the  nature  you  could  see  all  over 
the  hills,  but  Rufe  said  shucks,  if  he  had  plowed 
over  that  nature  as  often  as  he  had  it  wouldn't 
look  so  pretty. 

106 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

Cousin  Eunice  said  let's  go  straight  up 
through  the  woods  and  maybe  we  would  meet 
Marcella  coming  back  from  a  poor  person's 
house  where  she  had  been  to  carry  sick  folks' 
things  to.  This  plan  must  have  been  made  up 
between  them,  for,  sure  enough,  when  we  got  to 
the  tip-top  of  the  hill  we  found  Marcella  sit- 
ting under  some  cedar  trees  resting,  and  leaning 
back  against  one,  just  like  it  was  done  for  a  pur- 
pose. She  had  on  her  red  hat  and  her  little  red 
jacket,  which  set  off  her  pale  looks  considerable, 
and  if  she  did  do  it  for  the  sake  of  Julius  she 
knew  the  right  way  to  get  on  the  good  side  of  an 
artist,  for  he  commenced  acting  impressed  from 
the  start.  If  a  person  is  trying  to  be  romantic 
it  is  a  better  plan  to  meet  a  man  under  a  cedar 
tree  with  a  tired  expression  than  it  is  to  sprain 
your  ankle  so  they  will  have  to  carry  you  home 
in  their  arms,  like  they  do  in  books.  I  don't  know 
why  authors  sprain  so  many  of  their  characters' 
ankles,  and  then  let  them  make  love  smelling  of 
liniment. 

107 


THE   ANNALS   OF   ANN 

Mother  says  in  olden  times  people  married 
each  other  because  the  ladies  were  pretty  and 
could  make  good  cakes  and  the  young  men  were 
able  to  take  care  of  them,  but  nowadays  they 
marry  because  they  "feel"  the  same  way  about 
things.  This  is  called  congenial,  and  an  overly 
congenial  person  is  an  "affinity."  Cousin 
Eunice  and  Rufe  felt  the  same  way  about  Keats 
and  married.  Doctor  Gordon  and  Ann  Lisbeth 
both  loved  white  hyacinths  and  married,  and 
this  morning  I  heard  Marcella  and  Julius  say 
they  felt  the  same  way  about  music.  Marcella 
was  playing  on  the  piano  in  our  parlor  and  we 
were  all  listening  when  Julius  remarked : 

"Oh,  isn't  it  rare  to  find  a  woman  who  can 
properly  interpret  Beethoven  ?" 

Father  was  in  the  room  and  spoke  up.  "Yes," 
he  said,  "and  rarer  still,  in  these  days,  to  find 
one  who  can  properly  interpret  the  bake-oven." 

Marcella  thinks  the  world  and  all  of  Bee- 
thoven and  Wagner  and  other  persons  whose 
names  are  not  spelt  the  way  you  would  think. 
108 


; 


For   the   sake  of  Julius    Page  10$ 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Later,  when  there  wasn't  anybody  present  but 
just  those  two,  I  heard  Julius  ask  Marcella  if 
she  would  "sit"  to  him.  I  thought  at  first  he 
must  be  proposing,  for  the  folks  around  here 
say  that  Widow  Hollis  is  "setting  up  to"  any- 
body when  she's  trying  to  marry.  But  Marcella 
said  right  away  that  she  would  be  delighted, 
which  I  knew  couldn't  mean  marrying,  for  when 
a  young  lady  gets  proposed  to  she  never  even 
lets  on  how  glad  she  is,  much  less  says  delighted 
right  out  in  plain  words.  He  said  her  face  was 
the  purest  Greek  he  ever  saw,  which  didn't  make 
her  mad,  although  it  would  me,  for  a  Greek  is  a 
smiling,  oily-looking  person  which  runs  a  candy 
kitchen. 

When  he  mentioned  her  face  looking  like  a 
Greek's  face  she  acted  so  pleased  that  he  went 
on  to  tell  her  he  had  never  been  so  impressed  with 
anybody's  looks  in  his  life  as  he  was  with  hers 
that  first  day  under  the  cedar  tree.  He  said 
oh,  if  he  had  such  a  model  he  could  do  anything, 
for  he  was  sure  she  had  soul  as  well  as  beauty. 
109 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

The  idea  of  him  telling  her  she  had  a  soul — as 
if  anybody  but  foreign  heathens  didn't  have! 
She  said  she  thought  it  would  be  a  noble  life  to 
be  a  model  and  inspiration  to  a  man  of  lofty 
ideals — like  Dan  T.  Gabriel  Rosetty's  wife  was, 
only  sometimes  the  woman  was  starved.  If  I'd 
been  M arcella  I'd  been  ashamed  to  mention  such 
a  thing  as  not  getting  enough  to  eat,  but  it 
seemed  to  please  Julius,  for  he  got  over  closer 
and  commenced  making  a  sketch  of  her  on  the 
back  of  an  envelope. 

This  morning  early  Mrs.  and  Professor 
Young  came  over  to  ask  father  where  they  could 
find  a  Yule  log  and  a  peacock.  They  said  in 
the  "eternal  fitness  of  things"  they  must  have  a 
log  to  burn  all  Christmas  night  and  a  peafowl  to 
serve  with  "brilliant  plumage"  at  the  dinner 
table.  Mrs.  Young  went  around  to  the  kitchen 
to  ask  Mammy  Lou  if  she  knew  how  to  prepare 
the  peacock  the  way  they  wanted  it  and  brought 
to  the  table  in  its  feathers  with  the  tail  spread. 
110 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Mammy  wasn't  a  speck  more  polite  than  she 
was  last  summer  about  the  roosters. 

"No,  ma'am"  she  told  her,  "Mis'  Mary  won't 
let  even  so  much  as  a  pin  feather  come  on  her 
table,  much  less  a  whole  crittur  covered  with 
'em.  Looks  like  that  would  turn  a  nigger's 
stomach,  let  alone  white  folks  ;  but  there  ain't  no 
'countin'  for  the  taste  o'  Yankees" 

Professor  Young  tried  to  explain  that  he  was 
cooked  without  the  feathers  which  was  put  on 
afterward  and  an  old  English  custom,  but  that 
wouldn't  pacify  mammy. 

"Well,  all  I  can  say  for  the  old  English  is  that 
they  must  have  stomachs  on  'em  like  buzzards" 
mammy  told  them. 

The  Yule  log  was  easier  and  so  they  got  that, 
but  it  isn't  to  be  lit  till  to-morrow  night  with 
ceremony. 

Julius  and  Marcella  had  a  long  walk  through 
the  woods  after  sarsaparilla  vines  this  after- 
noon, and  talked  a  good  deal  about  how  they 
would  like  a  house  furnished  if  they  were  going 
111 


to  furnish  one.  They  never  got  as  far  as  the 
kitchen  and  smokehouse,  but  they  both  agreed 
that  they  would  love  better  than  anything  in 
the  world  to  have  a  dark  green  library  with 
dull  brass  jardinieres.  (I  had  a  terrible  time 
with  that  word.)  Julius  then  spoke  up  and 
said  any  kind  of  a  library  that  had  her  in  it 
would  be  artistic  enough  for  him,  which  I 
thought  was  saying  a  great  deal,  for  artists 
make  out  like  they  can't  live  without  their  "at- 
mosphere," meaning  battered-up  tea-kettles  and 
dirty  curtains  from  Persia.  Marcella  must  have 
thought  he  meant  something  by  it,  too,  for  she 
turned  as  red  as  when  you  have  a  breaking  out. 

I  helped  mother  and  mammy  considerable  this 
morning  by  tasting  all  the  things  to  see  if  they 
were  just  right,  for  we  are  going  to  have  a  big 
dinner  to-morrow  and  invite  them  all. 

To-night  we  all  went  over  to  the  bungalow  to 

hear  Professor  Young  read  about  how  they  used 

to  do  Christmas  things  in  England  before  the 

Pilgrim  Fathers.     It  sounded  awful  nice  about 

112 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

the  waifs  singing,  "God  rest  you,  merry  gentle- 
men," on  the  outside  of  your  window,  and  the 
servants  at  dinner  bringing  in  the  boar's  head, 
singing  too.  Professor  Young  said  he  thought 
these  old  customs  ought  to  be  revived,  especially 
in  the  South,  where  we  had  old-timey  houses  and 
old  family  servants.  Father  laughed  and  said, 
well,  we  might  get  Mammy  Lou  to  bring 
in  the  turkey  to-morrow  to  the  tune  of  "There 
wuz  er  moanin'  lady,  she  lived  in  er  moanin' 
Ian',"  which  was  all  the  tune  she  knew  besides 
Shadrach,  Meshach  and  Abednego,  one  being 
about  as  Christmasy  as  the  other. 

After  a  while  Mrs.  Young  started  up  the 
chafing-dish  and  called  Julius  from  over  in  the 
corner  where  he  and  Marcella  were  talking  very 
easy,  to  help  her  with  the  coffee.  She  hadn't 
more  than  said  coffee  when  Professor  Young 
picked  up  his  book  again. 

"Why,  Marie,  my  love,"  he  interrupted  her, 
"coffee  is  not  at  all  a  drink  in  keeping  with  the 
season.  To  preserve  the  unities  we  ought  to 
113 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

have  a  wassail  bowl."  Then  he  read  us  how 
easy  it  was  to  make  up  the  wassail.  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  take  wine,  or  ale,  and  sugar  and 
nutmeg,  mixed  with  ginger  and  spice,  then  have 
apples  and  toast  and  roasted  crabs  floating 
around  in  it.  You  must  mix  it  up  in  an  old  sil- 
ver bowl  that  has  been  in  your  family  a  hundred 
years  with  the  coat  of  arms  on  it.  A  coat  of 
arms  is  two  peculiar  animals  standing  on  their 
hind  legs  pawing  at  each  other. 

Mrs.  Young  said  she  was  as  anxious  to  pre- 
serve the  unities  as  Augustus,  but  how  could  she 
when  there  wasn't  any  wine  or  ale  or  ginger  or 
crabs,  to  say  nothing  of  the  silver  bowl  with  the 
coat  of  arms  marked  on  it.  Rufe  said  not  to 
worry,  for  we  might  find  it  hard,  along  toward 
midnight  and  day,  to  preserve  much  unity  be- 
tween wassail  and  Welsh  rabbit,  if  we  ate  them 
together,  so  the  wassail  bowl  was  dropped. 

All  during  my  diary  there  hasn't  been  a  thing 
as  thrilling  to  happen  as  what  happened  to-day, 
114 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Christmas  Day,  to  Julius  and  Marcella.  Getting 
your  arm  broken  and  carried  to  the  hospital 
by  your  future  husband  wasn't  anything  to  com- 
pare with  this. 

Everybody  was  happy  at  the  dinner  table,  me 
especially,  for  besides  all  the  books  I  wanted  I 
got  a  pyrography  set  and  a  pearl  ring.  I 
don't  think  any  girl  is  complete  without  a  pearl 
ring.  The  company  all  praised  mammy's  cook- 
ing and  Julius  remarked  that  after  such  a  din- 
ner as  that  it  would  be  pretty  tough  on  a  fellow 
to  go  back  to  town  the  next  day  and  live  on 
coffee  heated  over  the  gas-jet  and  crackers.  We 
laughed  considerable  over  the  gas-jet,  all  but 
Marcella,  who  didn't  look  funny. 

Just  as  we  got  the  plum  pudding  burning  and 
Julius  had  said  he  wished  he  could  paint  a  pic- 
ture of  it  Dilsey  came  into  the  dining-room  with 
a  telegram  addressed  to  Mr.  Julius  Young. 
This  excited  Mammy  Lou,  who  admires  him  very 
much,  so  she  nearly  spilt  all  the  sauce,  saying, 
"Tbar !  I  jes'  know  it's  some  of  yo'  folks  dead !" 
115 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Julius  laughed  and  told  her  he  reckoned  not, 
as  all  the  folks  he  had  on  earth  were  right  there 
at  the  table,  and  he  looked  at  Marcella  when  he 
said  it  in  preference  to  his  own  brother !  Much 
to  all  of  our  disappointment  Julius  never  even 
opened  his  telegram  and  read  it,  although  we 
didn't  say  anything  about  it.  He  put  it  in  his 
pocket  and  went  on  eating  pudding  like  it  wasn't 
any  more  to  be  proud  of  than  just  a  plain  mail 
letter. 

After  dinner  father  took  them  all  out  in  the 
garden  to  look  at  some  new  hotbeds  he  was  hav- 
ing made  and  Julius  and  Marcella  went  into  the 
parlor.  I  stayed  in  the  hall  by  the  door,  not 
being  wanted  in  the  parlor  and  not  admiring 
hotbeds  much.  They  didn't  sit  down,  but  went 
over  and  stood  by  the  piano  and  all  of  a  sudden 
Marcella  said  nervous-like : 

"Why  don't  you  read  your  telegram?  It 
might  contain  good  news." 

"It  is  good  news,  I  feel  sure,"  he  told  her, 
"and  I  wanted  you  to  be  the  first  one  to  know  it 
116 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

— that's  the  reason  I  didn't  mention  it  at  the 
table." 

She  said  well  hurry  up  and  tell  her,  so  he  did. 
He  said  the  day  he  saw  her  leaning  against  the 
cedar  tree  he  thought  she  was  so  beautiful  that 
he  went  straight  back  to  the  bungalow  and  made 
a  picture  of  her  like  she  was  then  and  sent  it  to 
a  large  magazine  up  North  which  had  promised 
to  give  five  thousand  dollars  to  the  person 
which  sent  them  the  best  picture  by  Christmas, 
and  he  believed  the  telegram  was  to  say  that  his 
was  it.  Marcella  told  him  well,  he  had  a  high 
opinion  of  his  work  to  take  it  for  granted  that 
it  had  won  such  a  prize  as  that . 

"Not  at  all,"  he  said,  catching  her  hand  in 
his,  "for  it  was  a  picture  of  you." 

This  sounded  so  loving  that  I  wasn't  prepared 
for  what  came  next.  I  heard  them  tear  open 
the  telegram  and  Marcella  said,  "Good-ness;" 
and  he  said,  "Well,  I'll  be — I  wasn't  looking  for 
this !"  and  it  made  me  so  interested  that  before 
I  knew  it  I  was  in  the  parlor,  though  so  easy 
117 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

and  it  nearly  dark  that  I  don't  think  they  saw 
me. 

As  near  as  I  could  make  out  the  telegram  told 
Julius  they  thought  his  picture  was  so  good 
they  were  not  only  going  to  give  him  the  prize 
like  they  promised,  but  wanted  to  engage  him  to 
draw  for  them  all  the  next  year  and  how  much 
salary  would  he  do  it  for. 

"Why,  you  can  have  your  green  library  and 
brass  jardinieres  now,"  Marcella  said,  still  hold- 
ing hands  and  her  voice  like  it  was  about  to  cry. 
He  just  looked  at  her  and  looked  a  long  time 
without  saying  a  word.  Finally  he  put  both 
hands  on  her  shoulders  and  looked  down  into  her 
eyes. 

"I  can  have  nothing  without  you,"  he  said  in 
the  most  devoted  voice  I  ever  heard.  "It  is 
your  beauty  that  has  made  my  picture  succeed. 
If  I  amount  to  anything  you  will  have  to  come 
with  me — will  you?" 

"You  want  me  for  your  model?"  she  asked 
very  quivery  and  making  out  like  she  didn't 
118 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

know  what  he  was  driving  at,  but  she  put  her 
hands  up  on  his  shoulders  too,  which  was  enough 
to  give  her  away. 

"True,  I  can  not  draw  without  you  for  my 
model,"  he  said'  so  grand  and  sweet  that  it  made 
you  feel  very  strange  listening  to  it,  "but  I  can 
not  live  without  you  for  my  wife." 

This  won  her.  It  was  enough  to  win  anybody, 
coining  from  an  artist,  and  good  looking  at  that. 


119 


CHAPTER  VII 

BEING  in  love  with  Marcella  weighed  so 
on  Julius'  mind  that  he  couldn't  stay 
in  New  York  but  one  week  where  the  maga- 
zine is  that  he  draws  for,  so  he  came  back  and 
has  been  here  ever  since,  loving  and  drawing 
and  sending  them  the  jobs  by  mail.  Right 
away  they  set  the  wedding  for  the  eleventh  of 
April,  which  seems  like  it  never  will  come,  me 
being  in  a  big  hurry  for  it.  Poor  Julius  gets 
more  and  more  delighted  every  day,  talking  a 
heap  about  what  a  happy  home  they're  going 
to  have,  not  realizing  that  Chopin  and  dish-pan 
don't  go  together.  He  stays  around  and  advises 
Marcella  about  her  clothes  and  such-like  all  day 
long.  He  says  she  reminds  him  of  a  narcissus, 
being  tall  and  creamy-skinned,  so  he  wants  all 
120 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

her  dresses  to  be  either  white  or  light  green,  the 
color  of  right  young  lettuce.  But  she  knows 
when  really  to  take  his  advice  and  when  just  to 
make  like  she's  taking  it,  the  way  most  ladies  do 
with  men. 

"Why,  it  would  take  a  little  pink  milksop  like 
Bertha  Parkes  to  wear  such  colors  as  those"  she 
said  behind  his  back  one  day.  But  I  don't 
think  Marcella  better  be  calling  Bertha  a  milk- 
sop just  because  she  has  to  handle  baby-bottles 
all  the  time,  for  a  person  never  can  tell  what 
might  happen  to  them. 

One  of  the  nicest  things  about  the  wedding  is 
the  bridesmaids.  They  consist  of  girls  born 
partly  here  in  the  country,  partly  in  the  cities 
Marcella  has  visited  and  made  friends  with.  The 
one  I  like  best  is  Miss  Cicely  Reeves,  though 
most  people  around  here  call  her  Cis,  being  very 
small,  with  fluffy  hair  and  cute  ways  and 
dimples.  She  has  a  good  many  lovers  of  dif- 
ferent kinds,  but  don't  seem  to  like  one  above  an- 
other. She  is  a  great  hand  to  act  romantic, 
121 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

such  as  falling  in  love  with  a  man  in  a  street- 
car, or  expecting  her  future  husband  to  be  a 
certain  size  and  comb  his  hair  a  certain  way 
and  things  like  that.  This  often  keeps  young 
ladies  from  getting  married  a  long  time,  for 
mother  says  you  oughtn't  to  be  too  choice  about 
size  and  hair,  but  I  can't  help  being  on  that 
order  myself.  I  do  hope  I  can  marry  a  man  on 
a  jet-black  charger  named  Sir  Reginald  de  Bev- 
erley  who  owns  acres  and  acres  of  English 
landed  gentry. 

Miss  Cis  had  that  experience  with  the  name 
of  Julius'  best  man.  It  happened  that  we  were 
all  sitting  on  the  front  step  one  day  when  Julius 
pulled  a  letter  out  of  his  pocket  and  told 
Marcella  that  he  had  just  heard  from  Malcolm 
Macdonald,  and  that  he  was  going  to  be  his 
best  man. 

"Who?"  asked  Miss  Cis  right  quick,  looking 
up  from  the  sprig  of  bridal  wreath  she  was  pull- 
ing the  flowers  off  of. 

Julius  told  her  the  name  over  again  and  then 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

told  her  that  he  was  a  very  old  friend  of  his  and 
was  a  fine  civil  engineer.  I  used  to  think  a  civil 
engineer  was  a  polite  man  who  ran  the  trains, 
but  I  know  now  he  is  a  man  that  gets  in  the 
middle  of  the  street  with  a  string  and  a  three- 
legged  thing  and  measures  the  road. 

"Is  he  married?"  Miss  Cis  asked  a  heap 
quicker  than  she  had  asked  who. 

"No,  and  not  likely  to  be,"  Julius  answered, 
still  looking  over  the  letter  absent-mindedly. 

"The  name  sounds  good,"  Miss  Cis  com- 
menced, her  eyes  sparkling.  "I  never  heard 
anything  Scotchier.  Something  tells  me  he  must 
be  my  ideal." 

"Then  'something*  must  be  telling  you  a  lie," 
Julius  said  laughing,  "for  he  couldn't  be  any 
woman's  ideal.  He  is  very  real.  An  old  bach- 
elor, thirty-seven  years,  stern  and  precise;  and 
he  considers  every  woman  on  earth  as  a  frivolous 
and  wwnecessary  evil." 

"The  kind  of  man  I  adore,"  Miss  Cis  said 
joyfully,  though  anybody  that  knew  her  well 
123 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

could  tell  she  was  fooling.  "My  life  will  be  a 
blank  until  he  comes !" 

"It  would  be  a  blankety-blank  if  you  had  to 
live  with  him,  for  you  are  the  kind  of  woman 
to  torment  such  a  man  to  death." 

"All  the  more  reason  for  his  falling  in  love 
with  me,  as  I  have  fallen  in  love  with  his  name, 
and  if  he  doesn't  I  shall  consider  him  a  very 
mcivil  engineer."  Which  was  just  her  way  of 
talking.  This  happened  fully  two  months  ago, 
but  they  have  talked  about  it  off  and  on  ever 
since.  And  now  he  is  coming  to  stay  with  Jul- 
ius till  the  wedding,  to  cheer  him  up  I  suppose. 

Sure  enough  he  did  come  to-day,  although 
lots  of  times  I  imagine  that  I  never  will  get  to 
see  a  person  I  haire  heard  spoken  of  so  often 
and  in  such  high  tones — and  sometimes  I  wish  I 
hadn't.  But  it  wasn't  that  way  with  Mr.  Mac- 
donald.  Nobody  on  earth  could  have  been  dis- 
appointed in  him  for  he  is  one  of  the  tallest 
gentlemen  I  ever  saw  with  trousers  so  smoothly 


creased  that  they  look  like  somebody  had  ironed 
them  after  he  put  them  on.  He  takes  his  own 
time  about  saying  things,  being  very  careful 
about  saying  "of  whom"  and  "by  which"  like 
the  grammar  tells  you  to. 

Julius  brought  him  over  to  Marcella's  this 
afternoon  so  he  could  be  making  friends  with 
her  and  the  bridesmaids  that  were  collected 
there.  Remembering  how  they  had  been  teasing 
Miss  Cis  about  him  I  kept  my  eye  on  her  from 
the  minute  he  walked  through  the  door.  I  was 
greatly  disappointed  though,  for  she  never 
seemed  to  notice  him.  I  guess  she  took  a  better 
look  at  him  than  I  imagined  though,  for  the 
minute  they  were  gone  she  jumped  clear  across 
the  room  to  where  Marcella  was  standing  and 
grabbed  her  and  danced  up  and  down. 

"Isn't  he  beautiful!"  she  said  all  out  of 
breath.  "I'm  just  crazy  about  him!  Did  you 
ever  see  such  Gibsony  feet  and  legs  in  your 
life?"  Which  mortified  her  mother,  it  being  im- 
polite to  mention  feet  and  legs  in  her  days. 
125 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Julius  is  romantic,  too,  for  a  man,  and  says 
he  doesn't  want  any  flowers  used  in  connection 
with  his  wedding  except  the  sweet,  early  spring 
ones  that  favor  Marcella  so  much.  We  have  a 
yard  full  of  them  and  so  mother  told  them  this 
morning  that  they  better  come  over  and  gather 
them,  knowing  that  young  folks  enjoy  picking 
flowers  together  and  they  will  stay  fresh  for  sev- 
eral days  if  you  put  a  little  salt  in  the  water. 

It  was  the  most  beautiful  morning  you  ever 
saw,  with  birds  and  peach  blossoms  and  the 
smell  of  plowed  ground  all  making  curious  feel- 
ings inside  of  you.  Marcella,  being  a  musician, 
noticed  the  birds,  and  Julius,  being  an  artist, 
noticed  the  peach  blossoms,  but  Mr.  Macdonald, 
being  just  a  man,  noticed  Miss  Cis.  She  would 
walk  along  without  noticing  him  and  take  a 
seat  in  the  farthest  corner  away  from  him,  but 
anyhow  she  seemed  to  do  the  work,  which 
taught  me  a  lesson ;  that  if  you're  trying  to  get 
a  man  to  notice  you  it  is  the  best  plan  not  to  no- 
tice them  except  when,  they  ain't  looking. 
126 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

They  sat  down  on  the  porch  and  rested  a 
while  after  they  came  while  the  narcissuses 
(narcissi  they  called  them,  which  sounds  stuck 
up  to  me)  smelled  very  sweet  from  the  yard. 
Julius  remarked  he  wished  they  had  made  Rufe 
come  along  with  them  so  he  could  have  said 
poetry  out  of  Keats,  as  it  was  just  the  kind  of 
day  to  make  you  feel  Keatsy;  and  pretty  soon 
he  and  Marcella  got  on  to  their  favorite  sub- 
ject, "The  Ruby  Yacht,"  which  they  say  is  a 
piece  of  poetry  from  Persia.  They  talked  and 
talked,  which  made  me  very  sleepy  and  pretty 
soon  I  noticed  that  Mr.  Macdonald  was  getting 
sleepy  too.  He  leaned  over  to  Miss  Cis  and 
said,  kinder  whispery : 

"I  don't  understand  poetry,  do  you  ?" 
"No,  I  don't,"  she  answered  back,  with  a  smile 
on  her  face  which  I  knew  she  meant  to  be  "con- 
genial." I  knew  this  was  a  story,  for  she  talks 
about  "The  Ruby  Yacht"  as  much  as  anybody 
when  he  ain't  around,  but  I  didn't  blame  her  for 
telling  one  in  a  case  like  this. 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"I  never  could  discover  what  the  deuced  Ruby 
Yacht  was  about,  in  the  first  place,"  he  said. 

"It  looks  like,  from  the  name,"  I  said  speak- 
ing up,  "that  it  would  be  about  a  red  ship," 
but  before  I  could  get  any  further  they  began 
to  laugh  and  tell  my  remark  to  Julius  and  Mar- 
cella,  which  was  mortifying.  This  broke  up  the 
poetry  talk  and  they  began  gathering  the  flow- 
ers, Miss  Cis  and  Mr.  Macdonald  picking  in 
pairs,  by  which  I  knew  they  were  getting  affin- 
ityfied. 

After  they  had  picked  till  their  backs  were 
tired  Mammy  Lou  came  out  on  the  porch  bring- 
ing a  waiter  with  some  of  her  best  white  cake 
and  a  bottle  of  her  year-before-last-before- 
that's  wine  setting  on  it  and  her  finest  ruffled 
cap,  very  proud.  She  was  curious  to  see  the 
young  man  "Miss  Cis  was  settin*  up  to,  to  see 
whether  the  match  was  a  fittin'  one  or  not."  She 
took  a  good  look  at  him,  then  called  Miss  Cis 
into  the  hall  to  speak  her  opinion. 

"He'll  do"  I  heard  her  saying,  while  Miss  Cis 
128 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

was  telling  her  to  "s-s-sh,  Mr.  MacDonald  would 
hear  her." 

"He'll  do"  mammy  kept  on,  not  paying  any 
attention  to  what  was  told  her,  like  she  always 
don't.  "He  must  be  all  right,  for  bein'  a  frien' 
o'  Mr.  Juliuses  would  pass  'im.'  But,  honey,  he 
is  tolerable  po-faced,  which  ain't  no  good  sign  in 
marryin'.  If  thar's  anybody  better  experienced 
in  that  business  than  me  and  King  Solomon  I'd 
like  to  see  the  whites  o'  ther  eyes ;  an'  I  tell  you 
every  time,  if  you  want  to  get  a  good-natured, 
wood-cuttin',  baby-tendin'  husban'  choose  one 
that's  fat  in  the  face!" 

A  good  many  wedding  presents  commenced  to 
coming  in  this  morning,  which  was  a  sign  that 
the  invitations  got  to  the  people  all  right.  You 
often  hear  of  things  being  worth  their  weight  in 
silver,  but  there's  one  thing  you  can  count  on 
it's  being  true  about  and  that  is  wedding  invita- 
tions. You  never  saw  such  delighted  people  as 
Julius  and  Marcella.  They  were  laid  out  on 
tables  in  the  parlor  and  greatly  admired. 
129 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"They're  ours,  dearest,"  he  said,  squeezing 
her  hand  right  before  everybody,  "yours  and 
mine!  Our  Lares  and  Penates." 

This  greatly  impressed  me  and  I  looked  it  up 
in  the  back  of  the  dictionary  when  I  got  home, 
which  is  a  very  useful  place  to  find  strange 
words.  It  said:  "Lares  et  Penates,  household 
gods,"  which  didn't  make  sense,  so  I  knew  the 
dictionary  man  must  have  made  a  mistake  and 
meant  to  say  household  goods. 

"Gentle-men!"  said  Mammy  Lou  when  I  told 
the  words  to  her,  "if  he  thinks  up  such  names  as 
them  for  his  fu'niture  what  mil  he  do  when  he 
gets  to  his  chil'en  ?" 

This  remark  seemed  to  put  an  idea  into  her 
head,  for  Lovie,  mammy's  other  daughter  be- 
sides 'Dilsey,  has  got  a  pair  of  two  little  twins 
that  have  been  going  around  for  the  last  five 
years  in  need  of  a  name  just  because  Mammy 
Lou  and  Ike,  their  father,  can't  ever  agree  on 
one — a  name  nor  anything  else. 

"Them's  the  very  names  for  the  little  angels," 
130 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Mammy  said,  washing  the  dinner  dishes  deep  in 
thought,  "for  the  twins  bein'  boys  and  girls  and 
the  names  bein'  able  to  accommodate  therselves 
to  ary  sect  proves  that  they're  the  very  thing.1" 
She  studied  over  it  for  a  good  while,  I  guess  on 
account  of  Ike,  although  mammy  is  usually  what 
she  calls  very  plain-spoken  with  him.  A  plain- 
spoken  person  is  one  that  says  nasty  things  to 
your  face  and  expects  you  not  to  get  mad.  When 
they  say  them  behind  your  back  they're  "diplo- 
matic." But  finally  she  started  off  to  name 
them,  and,  having  had  so  much  trouble  already 
with  Ike,  I  saw  her  slip  her  heavy-soled  slippers 
into  her  pocket  before  she  started.  She  stayed 
away  a  long,  long  time,  but  when  she  got  back 
she  held  her  head  so  high  and  acted  so  stuck-up 
that  I  just  knew  she  had  got  to  use  both  the 
names  and  the  slippers. 

"Did  you  name  'em?"  I  asked  her,  going  to 
the  kitchen  to  get  some  tea-cakes,  supper  being 
very  late. 

"Did  /?"  she  answered  back,  cutting  out  the 
131 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

biscuits  with  a  haughty  look,  "you  just  oughter 
a  saw  me  namin'  'em !" 

"Which  did  you  name  which?"  I  asked. 

"I  named  the  precious  boy  Penates,  because  I 
most  know  these  common  niggers  roun'  here'll 
shorten  it  to  'Peanuts'  which  would  be  hurtin'  to 
a  little  girl's  feelin's." 

"Well,"  I  said,  continuing  to  show  a  friendly 
interest,  "ain't  you  glad  they're  named  at  last, 
so's  if  they  die  you  could  have  a  tombstone  for 
them?" 

"Glad !"  she  answered,  putting  the  biscuits  in 
the  pan  (but  her  mind  still  on  the  twins),  and 
sticking  holes  in  the  top  of  them  with  a  fork, 
"glad  ain't  no  name  for  it!  Why,  I  ain't  had 
as  much  enjoyment  out  o'  nothin'  as  I  had  out 
o'  this  namin'  sence  the  night  I  married  Bill 
Williams!" 

It's  a  very  thrilling  and  exciting  thing  to  be  a 
bride  and  if  you  can't  be  a  bride  you  can  still 
manage  to  get  a  good  many  thrills  out  of  j  ust  a 
132 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

bridesmaid.  All  of  Marcella's  have  talked 
about  how  nervous  and  timid  they  are  going  to 
be — when  the  men  are  around — and  some  say 
they  nearly  faint  when  a  great  crowd  stares  at 
them,  others  say  they  bet  folks  will  think  they've 
got  St.  Vituses'  dance  from  trembling  so;  any- 
how, they're  all  very  modest.  But  Miss  Cis,  I 
believe,  ain't  putting  on,  for  all  she  claims  to- 
ward modestness  is  that  her  knees  get  so  weak 
that  they  nearly  let  her  drop  when  she  acts  a 
bridesmaid,  which  is  the  way  a  good  many  per- 
sons feel.  The  maids  have  laughed  a  good  deal 
over  her  knees  among  themselves,  never  dream- 
ing that  the  men  would  catch  on  to  them,  but 
they  did  in  the  following  manner : 

Miss  Cis  stayed  all  night  at  Marcella's  last 
night  to  tell  secrets  for  the  last  time,  for  after 
a  lady  is  married  you  can't  be  too  careful  about 
telling  her  your  secrets ;  and  early  this  morn- 
ing I  ran  over  and  saw  her  dressed  in  a  pretty 
blue  kimono,  which  set  off  her  good  looks  great- 
ly, down  by  the  woodpile  which  they  keep  in  the 
133 


THE   ANNALS   OF   ANN 

side  yard.  There  is  a  hedge  of  honeysuckle 
which  runs  between  the  garden  and  the  yard  and 
she  appeared  to  be  searching  on  the  ground  for 
something  close  to  this  hedge.  I  weat  up  to 
where  she  was,  admiring  her  company,  and  she 
smiled  when  she  saw  me. 

"Ann,"  she  said,  very  pleasantly,  "can  you 
help  me  find  two  nice,  little,  smooth,  thin 
boards  ?" 

I  complimented  her  on  her  kimono  and  said 
yes'm  to  the  board  question,  then  asked  her 
what  she  wanted  with  them. 

"My  knees,"  she  answered  laughing,  "they're 
so  idiotic  that  when  I  get  excited  they  threaten 
to  let  me  drop.  If  I  could  strap  two  nice  little 
boards  to  them,  at  the  back,  you  know,  it  would 
prop  them  up  and  be  such  a  help !" 

"You  couldn't  walk  very  good,"  I  told  her, 
but  she  said  oh,  yes  she  could;  and  to  prove  it 
she  commenced  whistling  the  wedding  march  and 
walking  stiff-kneed  away  from  the  woodpile  to 
the  tune  of  it.  She  looked  so  funny  that  I  started 
134 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

to  laugh,  when  just  then  I  heard  another  laugh 
on  the  other  side  of  the  honeysuckle  vines.  I 
found  a  place  where  I  could  peep  through  and 
saw  it  was  Julius  and  Mr.  Macdonald  who  had 
come  out  to  view  Mr.  Clayborne's  hotbeds,  and 
greatl}'  complimenting  them,  Julius  knowing 
that  it's  a  fine  thing  to  stay  on  the  good  side 
of  your  father-in-law  in  case  you  lose  your  job. 

I  knew  they  heard  what  Miss  Cis  had  said, 
for  they  were  laughing  very  hard^  which  caused 
Mr.  Macdonald  to  look  real  young,  being  as  his 
eyes  can  twinkle.  I  knew  it  would  be  mortify- 
ing for  her  to  see  that  they  had  heard  her,  so  I 
hollered  and  told  her  that  I  heard  Marcella 
calling  her  from  the  up-stairs  window,  so  she 
ran  right  on  in  without  coming  back  to  the 
woodpile.  I  started  to  go  on  after  her,  but 
just  as  I  got  to  the  kitchen  door  I  remembered 
that  I  had  left  my  pretty  white  sunbonnet  that 
Mammy  Lou  had  freshly  ironed  for  me  on  the 
woodpile  and  ran  back  to  get  it. 

Julius  and  Mr.  Macdonald  were  right  where 
135 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

they  were,  only  looking  in  the  other  direction 
and  talking  very  seriously,  so  I  stayed  a  minute 
out  of  friendly  interest. 

"Although  so  bright  and  amusing  she  is 
never  silly,"  I  heard  Mr.  Macdonald's  long,  slow 
voice  saying.  "She  is  a  very  lovely,  fascinating 
little  woman."  So  I  took  a  seat  on  the  woodpile. 

"You'd  better  fall  in  love  with  her,"  Julius 
said,  cutting  the  briers  off  of  a  long  switch  he 
held  in  his  hand,  and  talking  careless  like,  as  if 
he  wasn't  paying  much  attention. 

"Your  advice  comes  too  late,"  Mr.  Macdonald 
said,  his  voice  so  solemn  that  Julius  looked  up 
in  surprise. 

"What !"  Julius  remarked. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Macdonald  said,  sounding  very 
devoted,  "I  did  that  very  thing  the  first  moment 
I  looked  at  her  dear,  sweet  face." 

Julius  stared  at  him  a  minute,  then  laughed  a 
tickled  laugh ;  and  I  moved  my  seat  right  up  to 
the  hedge  so  I  could  get  a  good  look  at  them — 
it  was  the  next  best  thing  to  a  proposal. 
136 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"That's  the  funniest  thing  I  ever  heard  of," 
Julius  said  after  he  had  quit  laughing. 

"It's  devilish  funny  to  you"  poor  Mr.  Mac- 
donald  said,  looking  like  he  didn't  know  whether 
to  laugh  or  to  cry.  "But — what  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"Do  ?"  said  Julius  very  businesslike,  like  folks 
talk  when  they're  telling  you  to  follow  their  ex- 
ample. "What  do  men  in  your  situation  usually 
do?  Why,  propose  to  her !" 

"But  she'd  never  marry  me,"  he  said  looking 
right  pitiful,  for  he  spoke  as  humble  as  if  he 
wasn't  any  taller  than  me,  and  him  over  six  feet 
tall.  "It  would  be  the  most  absurd  thing  in  the 
world  for  a  man  like  me  to  propose  to  a  woman 
like  her !" 

"No,  you're  wrong,"  Julius  told  him,  still 
half  laughing,  "the  most  absurd  thing  would  be 
that  she  would  accept  you !" 

I'm  awfully  tired  to-night  and  it  would  cramp 

my  hand  nearly  to  death  to  write  all  about  the 

wedding — how  Julius  looked  happy  up  to  the 

last,  and  how  Marcella  cried  just  enough  to  ap- 

137 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

pear  ladylike  on  her  lace  handkerchief ;  and  how 
the  family  relatives  cried  a  little  too.  Weddings 
are  all  alike,  but  proposals  are  all  different,  and 
I  think  I'd  better  use  more  space  on  them  in  my 
diary,  so  my  grandchildren  won't  get  sleepy 
over  the  sameness.  But  it  would  be  a  waste  of 
handwriting  to  tell  how  Miss  Cis  tormented  poor 
Mr.  Macdonald  all  day,  making  him  chase 
around  after  her  trying  to  get  in  a  private, 
loving  word;  and  me  just  crazy  to  see  whether 
she  really  was  going  to  accept  him  or  not,  al- 
though I  might  have  known  ! 

He  followed  her  up  though,  looking  so  brave 
and  determined  that  he  reminded  me  of  "The 
boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck."  She  worried 
him  so  that  all  through  the  ceremony  he  looked 
so  pale  and  troubled  that  you'd  have  thought  it 
was  him  getting  married.  Finally,  just  before 
it  was  time  for  the  train  that  he  was  going  back 
to  town  on  to  blow  she  changed  about  and  com- 
menced acting  sweet. 

All  this  was  nice  enough  to  watch,  but  is 
138 


fM  Hm 

:^  v          ^ 

'  •  -x      '  *\ 

:SM          '.-A 

^  :4 

^^tf 
."»,•»         ^^fc;- 


>V  -vv-.v^ 


He  followed  her  up  though     Page  138 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

cramping  to  write  about,  and  anyhow,  the  main 
thing  with  me  was  to  see  whether  she  was  going 
to  accept  him  or  not.  I  stayed  close  to  their 
heels  all  day,  but  he  didn't  get  a  chance  to  pro- 
pose until  just  after  dark,  down  by  the  front 
gate,  with  nobody  around  except  me  and  a  cale- 
canthus  bush  and — well,  you  just  ought  to  have 
seen  her  accepting  him ! 


139 


CHAPTER  VIII 

EVER  since  my  last  birthday  there  has  a 
great  change  come  over  me  for  I  have 
not  kept  my  diary.  Mother  took  me  to  one 
side  that  morning  and  said  it  was  time  for 
me  to  act  like  I  was  growing  up  now.  She  said 
many  a  girl  as  big  as  me  could  pick  a  chicken 
and  I  couldn't  do  a  thing  but  write  a  diary ;  and 
would  even  run  and  stop  up  my  ears  every  time 
Mammy  Lou  started  to  wring  one's  head  off. 
She  said  all  the  ladies  of  the  neighborhood  near- 
ly worried  her  to  death  advising  her  to  teach  me 
how  to  work  and  saying  it  was  simply  ridicu- 
lous for  a  great  big  girl  like  me  to  lie  flat  on 
her  stomach  reading  a  book  all  day  in  the  grass. 
This  shows  how  I  am  misunderstood  by  my  fam- 
ily, and  I  told  mother  so,  but  she  said  for  good- 
140 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

ness'  sake  not  to  get  that  idea  into  my  head,  for 
girls  that  were  always  complaining  about  being 
"misunderstood"  were  the  kind  that  got  divorces 
from  their  husbands  afterward.  I  know  this 
won't  be  the  way  with  me,  though,  for  I  expect 
to  live  on  good  terms  with  Sir  Reginald,  always 
wearing  pink  satin  and  spangles  even  around 
the  castle;  and  never  getting  mussy-looking 
when  I  give  the  children  a  bath  in  hopes  of  re- 
taining his  affections,  like  they  tell  you  to  in 
ladies'  magazines.  But  I  didn't  mention  Sir 
Reginald  to  mother,  or  she  would  have  misun- 
derstood me  worse  than  ever. 

Goodness !  I  reckon  the  neighbors  would  have 
a  fit  if  they  could  see  me  of  a  night  when  I 
dress  up  and  step  out  on  the  porch  roof,  making 
like  I'm  Juliet  in  Shakespeare.  I  wear  a  lace 
thing  over  my  head  and  let  a  pair  of  Cousin 
Eunice's  last  year's  bedroom  slippers  represent 
Romeo  with  fur  around  the  top.  They  are  the 
kind  he  wore  the  night  they  took  me  to  see  him 
and  are  all  I  can  find  in  the  house  that  looks  at 
141 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

all  like  him.  Nobody  gets  to  see  me  doing  this, 
though,  for  I  lock  the  door.  Somehow  I  think 
it  would  be  a  nicer  world  if  you  could  always 
lock  the  door  on  your  advising  friends. 

Last  summer  Rufe  said  I  was  so  clever  for 
my  age  (he  said)  that  I  ought  to  be  in  the  city 
(I  like  this  kind  of  advice)  at  a  good  school; 
so  father  and  mother  decided  to  move  to  the  city 
and  take  Mammy  Lou  and  spend  the  winter  and 
all  the  other  winters  until  I  could  get  educated 
and  live  in  a  flat.  So  we  went,  me  writing  much 
sorry  poetry  about  leaving  my  old  home.  The 
older  I  get  the  more  I  think  of  poetry  and  I 
reckon  by  the  time  I'm  engaged  I'll  be  crazy 
about  it! 

Our  leaving  was  very  sad,  poor  little  Lares 
and  Penates  crying  so  hard  at  the  depot  where 
they  went  to  tell  Mammy  Lou  good-by  that  a 
drummer  who  was  traveling  with  a  kind  heart 
gave  them  a  quarter  apiece  to  hush. 

I  never  admired  the  name  of  flat  from  the 
first  and  when  we  started  to  rent  one  I  admired 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

it  less  than  ever.  It  consists  of  a  very  large 
house,  divided  up,  and  no  place  to  kill  a  chicken. 
There  is  also  no  place  to  warm  your  feet,  nor 
to  pop  corn.  In  fact,  there  are  more  places 
where  you  can't  do  things  than  where  you  can. 
Rufe  took  us  to  every  one  in  town  nearly,  and 
mammy  paid  particular  attention  to  how  the 
kitchens  were  fixed  and  asked  what  became  of 
the  potato  peelings  with  no  pigs  to  eat  them 
up.  Finally,  after  everything  had  been  ex- 
plained to  her,  she  spoke  up  in  the  midst  of  a 
lady's  flat  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  said : 

"Mis'  Mary,  le's  go  back  to  the  country  whar 
slop  is  called  slop;  up  here  it's  'gawbageT  ' 

Father  and  mother  were  both  delighted  that 
going  back  had  been  mentioned  without  either 
one  of  them  saying  it  first,  for  both  of  their  feet 
were  sore  from  looking  for  flats;  and  they  like 
to  have  fallen  over  each  other  in  agreeing  with 
mammy. 

"God  never  intended  for  human  beings  to  live 
in  flats,"  father  said,  after  the  elevator  had  put 
143 


THE    ANNALS   OF   ANN 

us  down  on  dry  land  once  more,  drawing  a  deep 
breath. 

"Nor  in  cities  either,"  Rufe  agreed,  with  a 
far-away  look  in  his  eyes,  like  he  might  be  think- 
ing of  the  chestnut  hunts  and  black  haws  of  his 
boyhood. 

That  night  they  said  well,  they  had  found  out 
they  couldn't  live  in  the  city,  and  they  weren't 
going  to  be  separated  from  me,  and  I  had  to  be 
educated;  so  Rufe  then  told  them  that  a  gov- 
erness was  the  next  best  thing.  This  sounded 
so  much  like  a  young  girl  in  a  book  that  at  first 
I  was  delighted.  A  governess  is  a  very  clean 
person  that  always  expects  you  to  be  the  same. 
Only  in  books  they  are  usually  drab-colored 
young  ladies  without  any  nice  clothes  or 
parents,  but  the  son  of  the  family  falls  in  love 
with  them,  much  to  their  surprise,  and  they  lose 
their  job.  Then  the  son  gets  sent  away  to 
India  with  his  regiment,  where  he  hopes  he  can 
meet  sweet  death  through  a  bullet  hole.  This 
is  the  way  they  are  in  books. 
144 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Mine,  though,  is  not  anything  like  that,  be- 
ing very  pretty  and  pink,  and  with  a  regular 
father  and  mother  like  other  folks  have.  But 
there  is  a  great  mystery  connected  with  her. 
Don't  anybody  but  me  know  about  it,  and  I 
don't  know  all  about  it.  From  the  very  first  she 
seemed  to  have  something  on  her  mind ;  this  is 
very  unusual  for  a  young  girl,  so  I  tried  to  find 
out  what  the  cause  of  it  was.  One  day  at  the 
dinner  table  when  she  had  been  here  about  two 
weeks  father  remarked  that  I  was  learning 
faster  from  her  than  I  ever  had,  and  he  hoped 
that  she  would  stay  here  with  us  until  I  was  fin- 
ished being  educated  and  not  be  wanting  to  get 
married,  like  most  young  ladies.  Miss  Wilburn, 
instead  of  laughing  as  one  would  expect,  turned 
red  in  the  face  (her  first  name  is  Louise)  and 
said  something  that  sounded  like  "Oh  no !" 

Mammy,  who  was  in  the  room  at  the  time, 

spoke  up  as  she  usually  does  and  said  well,  there 

must  be  something  wrong  with  her  if  she  didn't 

want  to  marry,  as  all  right-minded  women  mar- 

145 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

ried  once  and  extra  smart  ones  married  as  often 
as  there  was  any  occasion  to!  Instead  of  smil- 
ing Miss  Wilburn  looked  more  painful  than 
ever ;  so  mammy,  who  thinks  enough  of  her  to 
even  do  up  her  shirtwaists,  changed  the  subject. 

That  night  when  I  went  into  the  kitchen  to 
talk  to  mammy  during  the  cooking  her  mind  was 
still  on  the  subject  of  Miss  Wilburn  and  marry- 
ing. 

"Honey,"  she  said  to  me,  flipping  over  the 
cakes  with  great  conviction,  "I've  been  thinking 
it  over  and  the  long  and  short  of  it  is  that  pore 
child's  been  fooled!  I  know  them  symptoms! 
She's  been  fooled  and  she's  grievin'  over  it. 
Though  thar  .ain't  no  use  for  a  woman  to  grieve 
over  nary  one  man  so  long's  she  under  forty  and 
got  good  front  teeth !" 

I  said  oh,  I  hoped  not.  I  hated  to  think 
about  the  lover  of  my  governess  proving  false ! 
I  told  mammy  maybe  he  had  just  died  or  some- 
thing else  he  couldn't  help.  But  she  interrupted 
me. 

146 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"Died  nothin'!  That  ain't  no  excuse,  for 
thar's  allus  time  to  marry  no  matter  what  you're 
fixin'  to  do.  Thar  ain't  nothin'  no  excuse  for 
not  marryin'  in  this  world,"  she  kept  on,  "be  it 
male  or  female.  You  needn't  be  settin'  thar 
swingin'  your  legs  and  arguin'  with  me  about 
the  holy  estate !" 

The  very  first  minute  I  thought  there  was  any- 
thing of  a  loving  nature  connected  with  Miss 
Wilburn  I  got  out  my  diary  to  write  it  down,  as 
you  see.  She  had  told  mother  anyhow  to  let 
me  keep  it  as  it  would  "stimulate  my  mental  fac- 
ulties" and  they  would  never  be  able  to  make  a 
chicken-picking  person  out  of  me.  I'm  going  to 
keep  it  right  here  in  the  drawer  and  jot  down 
everything  I  see,  although  I  am  convinced  that 
the  lover  is  dead.  Julius  and  Marcella  are  down 
here  now  for  the  first  time  since  they  were  mar- 
ried. We  see  them  a  great  deal,  for  they  love 
to  go  walking  through  the  woods  with  Miss  Wil- 
burn and  me ;  but  I  can't  waste  my  diary  writing 
about  them  now. 

147 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

I  just  happened  to  think  what  a  pity  it  was 
that  I  didn't  try  to  find  out  the  mystery  about 
Miss  Wilburn  from  Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice 
when  we  was  up  there  last  summer,  for  they 
knew  her  real  well  before  we  got  her.  In  fact, 
for  the  first  few  days  she  and  I  didn't  have  any 
congenial  things  to  talk  about  except  them  and 
tiny  Waterloo.  Waterloo's  little  name  by  rights 
is  Rufus  Clayborne,  Junior,  and  he  occurred  at 
a  time  when  I  wasn't  keeping  my  diary ;  but  my 
grandchildren  would  have  known  about  him  any- 
how, he  being  their  little  fifth  cousin.  He  is 
very  different  from  Bertha's  baby,  for  he  is  a 
boy.  I  thought  when  I  first  saw  him  that  if  there 
was  anything  sweeter  in  this  world  than  a  girl 
baby  it  is  a  boy  one ! 

Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice  have  lately  been 
kinder  New  Thought  persons,  which  think  if 
you  have  "poise"  enough  there  can't  anything 
on  earth  conquer  you.  Rufe  bragged  particu- 
larly about  nothing  being  able  to  conquer  him 
or  get  him  in  a  bad  temper,  he  had  so  much 
148 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

poise.  But  when  little  Rufus  was  just  three 
nights  old  and  he  had  walked  him  the  other  two 
and  he  was  still  squalling  he  threw  up  his  job. 

"Poise  be  hanged !"  Cousin  Eunice  told  us  he 
said,  "I've  met  my  Waterloo!"  And  they've 
called  him  that  ever  since. 

When  we  were  up  there  in  the  summer  Water- 
loo was  giving  his  father  considerable  trouble 
about  the  editorials.  An  editorial  is  a  smart  re- 
mark opposite  the  society  column;  and  Rufe 
couldn't  think  up  smart  things  while  he  was 
squalling. 

"Oh,  for  a  desert  island!"  he  said  one  night 
when  he  was  awful  busy  and  couldn't  get  any- 
thing done.  "Oh,  for  a  mammoth  haystack 
where  I  might  thrust  my  head  to  drown  the 
noise — I've  read  that  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau 
used  to  do  so !  Listen,  I've  made  a  rhyme !" 

"  "Tis  not  rhymes  but  dimes  we  need  most  just 
now ;  so  go  on  with  your  work,"  Cousin  Eunice 
said,  gathering  Waterloo  together  to  take  him 
up-stairs. 

149 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

"Merely  removing  the  location  of  the  noise 
will  lessen  it  but  slightly,"  Ruf e  called  to  her  as 
she  got  to  the  door.  "Seriously,  do  you  know 
of  a  hayloft  in  the  neighborhood  where  I  might 

go?" 

"You  might  go  next  door  to  the  Williams' 
garage  and  thrust  your  head  into  their  can  of 
gasolene — that's  the  latter-day  equivalent  for 
hay !"  Cousin  Eunice  answered  kinder-mad,  for 
she  admires  Waterloo,  no  matter  how  he  acts. 

So  Miss  Wilburn  and  I  talked  over  all  we 
knew  about  the  little  fellow ;  and  I  thought  what 
a  mistake  I'd  made  in  not  asking  Cousin  Eunice 
what  Miss  Wilburn's  lover's  name  was  and  where 
he  is  buried  and  a  few  other  things  like  that.  But 
then  I  couldn't,  because  I  didn't  know  that  there 
was  a  lover.  Still,  Mammy  Lou  can  talk  till  her 
hair  turns  straight  and  she  won't  get  me  to  be- 
lieve that  he's  anything  else  but  dead.  Every- 
thing seems  to  point  to  it,  from  the  fact  of  her 
not  getting  any  letters  from  young  men  and 
looking  lonesome  at  times  and  not  wearing  any 
150 


.      THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

diamond  engagement  ring.  I'm  sure  he  gave  her 
one,  but  maybe  his  wicked  kinfolks  made  her  give 
it  back  to  them  after  the  funeral.  Or  maybe 
she  buried  it  in  his  grave.  I  don't  know  why 
Miss  Wilburn  never  talks  about  him  for  one  of 
our  neighbors  talks  all  the  time  about  her  hus- 
band which  was  killed  in  the  war.  I  used  to  be 
delighted  to  hear  her  commence  telling  about 
him.  He  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Shiloh  and 
was  the  tallest  and  handsomest  man  in  the  army. 
She  takes  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  talking 
about  him,  and  when  there  are  summer  boarders 
at  her  house  he  grows  to  be  nearly  seven  feet 
tall  and  so  handsome  that  it  hurts  your  eyes  to 
look  at  him.  Her  second  husband  is  stone  deaf 
and  can't  hear  it  thunder,  which  makes  it  nicer 
for  them,  for  while  it  amuses  her  to  talk  about 
her  first  husband's  good  looks  it  ain't  hurting 
to  the  second  one's  feelings. 

The  autumn  leaves  are  just  lovely  now  and 
make  you  want  to  write  a  book,  or  at  least  a 
piece  of  poetry.    It's  right  hard  on  you,  though, 
151 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

not  to  have  anything  to  write  about  but  a  girl 
without  a  beau.  It's  kinder  like  eating  sweet 
potatoes  without  butter.  I  decided  this  morn- 
ing that  I  better  make  the  most  of  what  I  have 
got  as  a  subject,  so  I  started  to  writing  one 
called  The  Maiden  Widow.  I've  heard  of  a  book 
by  that  name,  but  I  don't  reckon  they'll  have  me 
arrested  for  writing  just  a  short  poem  by  the 
same  name.  We  have  some  nature  study  every 
morning  in  the  woods,  which  is  one  of  the  best 
things  about  having  a  governess.  She  lets  me 
do  just  as  I  like,  so  I  took  my  tablet  and  while 
she  was  writing  some  history  questions  I  com- 
posed on  my  poem.  It  is  very  discouraging  work, 
though,  to  write  about  widows,  for  there's  noth- 
ing on  earth  that  will  rhyme  with  them.  I  got 
one  line,  "The  maiden  widow,  she  wept,  she  did, 
oh!"  which  was  sorry  enough  sounding,  but  I 
didn't  know  whether  or  not  it  was  exactly  fair  to 
have  two  words  rhyming  with  just  one.  After 
a  while  I  thought  maybe  a  regular  poet  could 
do  a  better  job  by  it  than  even  I  could,  so  I  de- 
152 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

cided  to  ask  Marcella  to  ask  Julius  to  write  me 
a  few  lines  as  a  copy  to  go  by,  for  anybody  that 
can  draw  such  lovely  pictures  ought  to  be  able 
to  write  poetry. 

Marcella  came  over  this  afternoon  and  I  took 
her  up-stairs  very  secretly  to  ask  her  about  it. 
She  said  why,  what  on  earth  made  me  think  that 
Miss  Wilburn  was  grieving  over  a  dead  lover, 
and  I  told  her  that  everything  made  me  think  it. 
After  studying  about  it  for  a  little  while  she  said 
well,  it  might  be  that  I  was  right,  for  the  girl 
did  seem  to  have  something  preying  on  her  mind. 
But  she  said  such  subjects  were  not  suitable  for 
children  of  my  age  to  be  writing  about  and  that 
I  ought  to  write  about  violets  and  sparrows.  I 
said  then  would  she  please  find  out  from  Julius 
whether  or  not  there  was  a  rhyme  for  widow, 
for  I  might  want  to  write  a  poem  on  them  when 
I  got  grown,  but  she  said,  "Ann,  you  are  incorri- 
gible," which  I  keep  forgetting  to  look  up  in  the 
dictionary,  although  it  looks  like  I  would,  for 
it  has  been  said  to  me  so  many  times. 
153 


THE    ANNALS   OF   ANN 

A  thing  happened  this  morning  which  made 
me  understand  what  Shakespeare  must  have 
meant  when  he  said  "Much  Ado  About  Noth- 
ing." It  reminded  me  of  the  time  Cousin 
Eunice  rushed  to  the  telephone  and  called  Rufe 
up  and  said,  "Oh,  dearest,  the  baby's  got  a 
tooth !"  This  was  harmless  enough  in  itself,  but 
it  is  when  things  are  misunderstood  that  the 
trouble  comes  in.  Rufe  misunderstood  and 
thought  she  said,  "The  baby's  got  the  croup," 
which  is  very  dangerous.  So  he  didn't  stop  to 
hear  another  word,  but  dropped  the  telephone 
and  grabbed  his  hat.  It  was  night,  for  Rufe's 
paper  is  a  morning  one  that  works  its  men  at 
night,  and  didn't  wait  for  a  car,  but  jumped  into 
a  carriage,  which  costs  like  smoke.  He  drove 
by  Doctor  Gordon's  house  and  told  the  driver 
to  run  in  and  tell  Doctor  Gordon  to  come  right 
on  and  drive  to  his  house  with  him,  as  his  baby 
was  very  sick,  although  Doctor  Gordon  has  an 
automobile  of  his  own.  He  and  Ann  Lisbeth 
happened  to  have  a  few  friends  in  to  play  cards 
154 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

with  them  that  night,  but  when  she  heard  the 
news  about  the  baby  she  told  the  company  that 
Cousin  Eunice  was  one  of  the  best  friends  she 
had  in  the  world  and  she  would  have  to  go  on 
over  and  see  if  she  could  help  any.  So  the  card 
party  was  broken  up  and  they  all  drove  as  hard 
as  they  could  tear  over  to  Rufe's  house,  where 
they  found  Cousin  Eunice  tickled  to  death  over 
the  tooth  and  washing  Waterloo's  little  mouth 
out  with  boric  acid  water,  which  is  the  proper 
thing.  This  is  what  I  call  much  ado  about  noth- 
ing, and  I'm  sure  Shakespeare  would  if  he  was 
living  to-day. 

What  happened  this  morning  was  equally  as 
exciting  and  a  long  story,  so  I'm  going  to  stop 
and  sharpen  my  pencil,  for  I  despise  to  write 
exciting  things  with  a  pencil  that  won't  half 
write. 

I  reckon  some  people  might  lay  the  blame  on 

me  for  what  happened,  but  it  ain't  so  at  all,  if 

people  hadn't  just  misunderstood  me.    Anyhow, 

it  may  make  me  "curb  my   imagination,"   as 

155 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

Julius  says,  for  that  is  what  they  blamed  it 
all  on. 

When  we  started  out  for  our  nature  study 
this  morning  father  said  if  we  could  stand  the 
sight  of  human  nature  a  little  would  we  go  down 
town  right  after  train  time  and  get  the  mail? 
We  said  yes  and  Marcella,  who  was  with  us, 
said  she  would  be  glad  to  go  in  that  direction, 
for  Julius  was  there  and  we  could  meet  him  and 
he  would  walk  home  with  us.  She  still  likes  to 
see  him  every  few  minutes  in  the  day. 

There  are  usually  several  very  handsome 
drummers  and  insurance  men  and  things  like 
that  standing  around  the  post-office  which  have 
just  got  off  of  the  train  at  this  hour,  but  this 
morning  there  wasn't  anybody  but  one  strange 
man  and  he  was  talking  to  Julius  like  he  knew 
him.  When  we  passed  by  Julius  spoke  to  us 
and  I  noticed  that  the  strange  man  looked  at 
Miss  Wilburn  and  looked  surprised.  All  in  a 
minute  I  thought  maybe  he  was  the  lover  which 
had  just  returned  from  some  foreign  shore,  in- 
156 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

stead  of  being  dead,  and  would  run  up  with  open 
hands  and  say,  "Louise,"  and  she  would  say, 
"Marmaduke,"  and  all  would  be  well. 

I  learned  afterward,  though,  that  his  name 
is  Mr.  White  and  he  lives  in  the  city  and  has 
come  down  here  on  business  and  knew  Julius. 
After  we  had  passed  he  remarked  that  he  was 
surprised  to  see  Miss  Wilburn  down  here  as  he 
didn't  know  she  was  away  from  home.  Julius 
asked  him  if  he  knew  Miss  Wilburn  and  he  said 
no,  but  he  knew  Paul  Creighton,  the  fellow  she 
was  going  to  marry,  mighty  well.  Julius,  in- 
stead of  not  saying  anything  as  a  person  ought, 
spoke  up  and  said  why  he  understood  that  Miss 
Wilburn' s  sweetheart  was  dead.  The  strange 
man  said  why  he  was  utterly  shocked  for  he  had 
seen  Creighton  on  the  streets  only  a  few  days 
before,  but  he  had  looked  kinder  pale  and  wor- 
ried then.  He  said  it  made  him  feel  weak  in  the 
knees  to  hear  such  a  thing,  and  Julius  com- 
menced saying  something  about  it  must  be  a 
mistake  then,  but  Mr.  White  said  no,  he  guessed 
157 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

it  was  so,  for  Mr.  Creighton  had  looked  awful 
pale  and  thin,  like  he  might  be  going  into  con- 
sumption. Julius  said  well  he  was  certain  his 
wife  had  told  him  something  about  Miss  Wil- 
burn  having  a  dead  lover,  but  he  hadn't  paid 
much  attention  to  what  she  was  saying,  like 
most  married  men ;  but  it  surely  couldn't  be  so. 
By  that  time  Mr.  White  was  moving  down  the 
street  to  where  we  were  and  was  asking  Julius 
to  introduce  him  to  Miss  Wilburn,  so  he  could 
find  out  the  particulars  about  poor  old  Creigh- 
ton. I  will  give  Julius  credit  for  trying  to 
stop  him,  but  he  is  one  of  the  kind  of  persons 
that  never  knows  when  to  say  a  thing  and  when 
not  to,  Mr.  White,  I  mean.  And  before  Julius 
could  get  him  side-tracked  they  had  caught  up 
with  us  and  there  wasn't  anything  else  to  do  but 
introduce  him.  Miss  Wilburn  smiled  very  joy- 
fully when  she  heard  his  name,  and  in  a  minute 
he  had  got  her  off  to  one  side  and  I  heard  him 
saying  something  about  how  horrified  he  was  to 
hear  the  news  about  poor  Creighton.  In  just 
158 


THE   ANNALS    OF   ANN 

an  instant  Miss  Wilburn  was  the  one  that  looked 
horrified  and  said  why  what?  This  seemed  to 
bring  Mr.  White  to  his  right  mind  a  little  and 
instead  of  going  ahead  and  telling  it  he  turned 
around  to  Julius  and  said: 

"Why  our  friend,  Young,  here,  was  telling 
me  that " 

"I  t old  you  that  it  must  be  a  mistake,"  Julius 
spoke  up,  looking  awfully  uncomfortable,  "but 
I  remember  my  wife  saying  that — oh,  say,  Mar- 
cella,  explain — will  you?" 

"Why,  Julius  Young,"  Marcella  commenced 
in  a  married-lady  tone,  "you  promised  me  that 
you  wouldn't  say  a  word  about  it;  anyway  we 
only  suspected — 

"Will  nobody  tell  me  what  has  happened  to 
Paul?"  Miss  Wilburn  said  in  a  low,  strangled 
voice,  like  she  couldn't  get  her  breath  good. 

"Ain't  anything  happened  to  him  that  zee 
know  of,"  I  told  her,  for  Julius  and  the  rest  of 
them  looked  like  they  were  speechless.  "We 
thought  you  knew  it!" 

159 


THE   ANNALS   OF   ANN 

"Knew  what?  Oh,  for  the  love  of  Heaven, 
tell  me !"  she  said,  poor  thing !  And  I  felt  awful 
sorry  for  us  all,  but  for  Miss  Wilburn  and  me 
in  particular. 

I  just  couldn't  tell  her  we  thought  he  was 
plumb  dead,  so  I  told  her  we  thought  he  must  be 
very  sick  or  something. 

"He  may  be,"  she  answered,  not  looking  any 
happier.  "I  haven't  heard  from  him  since  I've 
been  here!  Oh,  it  serves  me  right  for  acting 
such  an  idiot  as  to  run  off  down  here  and  forbid 
his  writing  to  me!  He  may  be  desperately  ill! 
How  did  you  hear  it?" 

"Ain't  anybody  heard  it  yet!"  I  told  her, 
feeling  so  angry  at  Marcella  and  Julius  and 
Mr.  White  for  telling  such  a  thing  and  so 
ashamed  of  myself  for  making  it  up  that  I 
couldn't  think  very  well.  I  kept  wishing  in  my 
mind  that  it  was  the  first  day  of  April  so  I  could 
say  "April  Fool,"  or  an  earthquake  would  hap- 
pen or  anything  else  to  pass  it  oif ;  but  didn't 
anything  happen,  so  I  had  to  stand  there  with 
160 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

all  of  them  looking  at  me  and  tell  Miss  Wilburn 
how  Mammy  Lou  said  she  believed  she  had  been 
fooled  because  she  looked  so  sad  at  the  mention 
of  marrying,  but  7  believed  the  gentleman  was 
dead. 

Well,  it  took  every  one  of  us  every  step  of  the 
way  home  to  explain  it  to  her  and  to  each  other, 
each  one  of  us  talking  as  hard  as  we  could ;  and 
Julius  remarked  what  he'd  do  the  next  time  he 
heard  any  such  "sewing-society  tales"  under  his 
breath. 

Just  as  we  got  in  sight  of  the  house  poor 
Miss  Wilburn  was  so  worn  out  with  grief  and 
anxiety  that  she  sat  down  on  the  big  stump  and 
laughed  and  cried  as  hard  as  she  could.  Mother 
saw  her  from  the  window  and  she  and  mammy 
ran  down  to  where  we  were  to  see  what  it  was  all 
about.  She  patted  Miss  Wilburn  on  the  back 
and  on  the  head  and  said,  "poor  dear,"  while 
mammy  said  she  would  run  right  back  to  the 
house  and  brew  her  some  strong  tea,  which  was 
splendid  when  a  body  was  distressed  about  a  man. 
161 


THE   ANNALS   OF   ANN 

"There,  dear,  talk  to  us  about  him,"  mother 
said,  after  the  whole  story  was  told,  "tell  us 
about  him,  for  talking  will  do  you  good.  You've 
been  unnaturally  quiet  about  him  since  you've 
been  here !" 

"I  was  trying  to  find  out  whether  or  not  I 
really  loved  him,"  Miss  Wilburn  said,  after  Jul- 
ius and  Marcella  had  left  us  and  we  were  going 
on  up  the  walk.  "It  was  silly  of  me,  for  all  the 
time  I've  been  so  lonesome  for  him  that  I  felt 
as  if  I  should  scream  if  anybody  suggested  men 
or  marrying  to  me !" 

"Yes,  you  pore  lamb,"  mammy  said,  walking 
on  fast  to  make  the  tea,  "you  loves  him,  you 
shore  do.  I  knows  them  symptoms !" 


162 


.•"1 


CHAPTER  IX 

I  THINK  if  the  person  which  remarked,  "It 
is  not  always  May,"  had  said  April  he 
would  have  come  nearer  hitting  it,  for  I  think 
it  is  the  most  beautiful  time  of  all.  There's 
something  in  the  very  feelings  at  this  time  of 
the  year  that  makes  you  want  to  write  pretty 
things,  whether  you  know  what  you  want  to  say 
or  not.  So  I  have  got  out  my  diary  and  dusted 
it  off,  it  being  laid  away  in  the  drawer  ever  since 
last  fall,  when  I  told  about  me  getting  Miss  Wil- 
burn's  affairs  so  mixed  up  because  there  hasn't 
been  anything  happening. 

One  time  not  long  ago  I  did  get  out  my  diary, 
for  I  got  very  excited  over  the  news  that  a 
widow  was  here,  and  I  sharpened  seventeen  pen- 
cils so  as  to  be  ready  for  her.    But  she  had  the 
163 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

misfortune  to  marry,  before  I  could  get  intro- 
duced to  her,  a  man  from  her  same  city  which 
had  got  on  the  train  and  followed  her  down  here. 
She  was  a  lovely,  high-heeled,  fluffy-petticoated 
kind  of  a  widow  and  I  could  have  written  chap- 
ters out  of  her  I  know ;  because  all  the  time  she 
was  down  here  the  ladies'  sewing  circle  met  three 
times  a  week  and  talked  so  that  father  said  he 
heard  they  had  to  pass  around  potash  tablets 
instead  of  refreshments  for  the  sake  of  their 
sore  throats. 

Mammy  Lou  made  fun  of  me  when  I  told  her 
how  disappointed  I  was  over  not  getting  to  meet 
such  a  pretty  lady  and  write  her  experiences. 

"Looks  like  you'd  a  knew  better  than  to  ex- 
pect a  widow  to  waste  time  a-cou'tin',"  she  told 
me  with  that  proud  look  coming  over  her  face 
that  always  does  when  she  begins  to  brag  on 
herself.  "They  don't  cou't ;  they  marries !  Thar 
ain't  nobody  able  to  dispute  with  me  over  the 
ways  o'  widows,  for  ain't  I  done  been  six  of  them 
myself?" 

164 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

This  ain't  exactly  so,  it's  just  five,  for  she 
never  has  got  that  divorce  from  Bill  Williams 
yet ;  and  she  says  now  that  she's  going  to  spend 
the  money  that  the  divorce  would  cost  in  beau- 
tifying herself  so  she  can  marry  again.  She 
says  she  wants  to  buy  her  a  stylish  set  of  bangs 
and  a  pair  of  kid  gloves  to  go  with  them,  then 
she  is  going  to  let  the  next  man  make  her  a  pres- 
ent of  the  divorce  for  a  bridal  gift. 

"And  you  needn't  be  settin'  it  down  in  that 
little  dairy  book  o'  yourn,  neither,  for  your 
gran'chfllen  to  be  makin'  spo't  o*  me  about  after 
I'm  done  dead  an'  gone." 

I  told  her  it  was  diary,  not  dairy,  but  she 
wouldn't  listen  to  me. 

"Go  'long  with  that  stuck-up  talk,"  she  told 
me,  "ain't  I  been  knowin'  about  dairies  all  my 
life?  An'  I  never  even  heered  tell  of  a  di-ry  till 
I  learned  to  my  sorrow  of  that  pesky  little  book 
that's  always  gettin'  lost  and  me  havin'  to  find 
it."  And  I  couldn't  blame  her  very  much  for 
this,  me  being  a  great  hand  myself  to  get  words 
165 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

mixed  up  in  my  childhood,  especially  such  words 
as  epistle  and  apostle.  I  always  thought  that 
ignorant  people  said  "epistle"  and  smart  ones 
"apostle." 

But  as  I  was  saying,  a  sweetheart  is  the 
proper  thing  to  get  in  the  spring  if  you  can  get 
one ;  but  if  you're  too  little  for  such  a  thing  a 
kindred  spirit  is  the  next  best  thing  a  girl  can 
have.  A  kindred  spirit  is  a  girl  you  lay  awake 
till  twelve  o'clock  of  a  night  telling  secrets  to. 
Of  course  men  never  tell  secrets,  but  they  often 
need  a  kindred  spirit,  that  is,  a  close  friend, 
especially  when  they  get  so  sick  they  think 
they're  about  to  die  they  want  the  friend  to  run 
quick  to  their  private  office  and  burn  up  some 
letters  in  their  desk  that  it  wouldn't  be  healthy 
for  them  to  let  their  wife  know  about,  even  if 
they  were  dead.  So  it  is  a  convenient  thing  to 
have,  male  or  female. 

The  first  night  I  laid  awake  with  mine  I  told 
her  all  about  stuffing  my  insteps  to  make  them 
look  aristocratic  and  kissing  Lord  Byron's  pic- 
166 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

ture  good  night  every  night,  which  I  never 
would  have  done  in  the  daylight.  At  night 
things  just  seem  to  tell  themselves,  although  you 
are  very  sorry  for  it  the  next  day.  Men  mostly 
propose  at  night ;  I  guess  one  excuse  is  that  the 
girls  form  such  beautiful  optical  illusions  under 
a  pink  lamp  shade. 

Well,  I  told  her  all  I  knew  and  she  told  me 
the  story  of  her  life,  which  is  as  follows:  Her 
name  is  Jean  Everett,  her  mother's  name  is 
Mrs.  Everett  and  her  young  lady  aunt  is  named 
Miss  Merle  Arnold  on  her  mother's  side.  They 
are  down  here  to  spend  the  summer  and  are 
boarding  close  to  our  house.  There  is  another 
boarder  in  the  house  for  the  summer  which  is 
named  Mr.  St.  John,  and  Jean  says  if  they  had 
named  him  Angel  instead  of  just  Saint  it 
wouldn't  be  any  too  good  for  him.  And,  if  I 
do  say  it  myself,  he  is  as  beautiful  as  a  mer- 
maid. Mammy  Lou  says  he's  gpt  a  "con- 
sumpted  look,"  but  to  other  people  it  is  the 
height  of  poetry. 

167 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Jean  is  so  full  of  poetical  thoughts  herself 
that  her  stomach  is  very  much  upset  and  noth- 
ing but  chocolate  candy  will  agree  with  her. 
She  has  promised  the  next  time  she  stays  all 
night  with  me  she  will  tell  me  the  one  great  se- 
cret of  her  life  (as  if  I  hadn't  guessed  it  the 
minute  she  called  Mr.  St.  John's  name.)  She 
hasn't  got  much  appetite  and  the  smell  of 
honeysuckle  fills  her  with  strange  longings.  She 
says  she  either  wants  to  write  a  great  book  or 
live  in  a  marble  palace  or  marry  a  duke,  she 
can't  tell  exactly  which.  But  the  poor  girl  is 
cruelly  misunderstood  by  her  family,  because 
her  mother  is  giving  her  rhubarb  to  break  it  out 
on  her. 

Jean  came  over  early  this  morning  and  said 
she  just  had  to  talk  to  somebody  about  how 
spiritual  Mr.  St.  John  looked  last  night  with  his 
fair  hair  and  white  vest  on. 

"He  looked  just  like  a  lily,  Ann,"  she  said, 
with  almost  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  me  remember- 
ing Doctor  Gordon  didn't  laugh  at  her.  Then, 
168 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

before  I  could  comfort  her,  she  had  dropped 
down  by  the  iris  bed  and  was  telling  me  the 
one  great  secret  of  her  life,  without  waiting  to 
stay  all  night  and  tell  it  in  the  moonlight. 

"Love  him,"  she  said,  gathering  up  a  hand- 
ful of  the  purple  irises,  "love  him?  I'd  cook 
for  that  man." 

I  didn't  hardly  know  what  to  say  in  answer  to 
this  secret,  which  wasn't  much  of  a  secret  to  me ; 
but  she  didn't  wait  for  me  to  say  anything  for 
she  went  on  telling  me  what  big  pearl  buttons 
the  white  vest  had  on  it  and  how  Mr.  St.  John 
said  "i-ther  and  ni-ther,"  and  how  broken  her 
heart  was.  She  said  she  was  the  most  sinful 
girl  on  earth,  for  she  believed  Mr.  St.  John  was 
about  to  get  struck  on  her  Aunt  Merle,  and  here 
she  was  winning  him  away  from  her ! 

I  asked  her  if  he  had  ever  said  anything 
about  loving  her  and  she  said  why,  no ;  no  well- 
behaved  girl  would  let  a  man  say  such  a  thing 
to  her  until  they  had  been  acquainted  at  least 
a  month,  and  they  hadn't  been  knowing  each 
169 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

other  but  twenty-two  days.  I  then  asked  her 
if  he  had  made  any  sign  that  he  would  like  to 
say  things  to  her  when  the  month  was  out,  but 
she  said  that  was  just  where  the  trouble  came 
in.  She  knew  she  could  win  his  love  if  she  once 
got  a  chance  at  him;  but  no  matter  how  early 
she  got  up  of  a  morning  to  go  and  sit  with  him 
on  the  porch  before  breakfast,  which  was  a 
habit  of  his,  he  would  just  ask  her  how  far 
along  she  was  in  geography  and  if  she  didn't 
think  algebra  was  easier  than  arithmetic,  and 
such  insulting  questions  as  that.  Then  he 
would  pace  up  and  down  the  floor  until  her  Aunt 
Merle  came  out  of  the  front  door,  acting  like  a 
caged  bridegroom!  She  said,  oh,  it  would  put 
her  in  her  grave  if  she  didn't  get  her  mind  off 
of  it  for  a  little  while!  Then  she  asked  me  if 
we  were  going  to  have  strawberries  for  dinner 
and  said  she  would  run  over  and  ask  her  mother 
if  she  could  stay. 

This  morning  Jean  asked  me  if  I  remembered 
what  Hamlet  in  Shakespeare  said  about  words. 
170 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

I  told  her  I  had  just  got  as  far  as  The  Merchant 
of  Venice  and  was  getting  ready  to  start  on 
Hamlet  when  Miss  Wilburn  left.  She  said  well, 
he  remarked  "words,  words,  words,"  but  he 
didn't  know  what  he  was  talking  about.  She 
said  he  meant  that  there  wasn't  anything  in  mere 
words,  but  he  was  badly  fooled,  for  there  was  a 
heap  in  them. 

I  told  her  yes,  there  was  something  in  words, 
for  I  had  read  of  a  beautiful  Irish  poet  once 
that  just  couldn't  think  of  a  word  that  he 
wanted  to  finish  up  a  song  with.  He  studied 
over  it  for  about  three  months,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  one  day  his  carriage  upset  and  bumped 
his  head  so  hard  that  he  thought  of  it. 

Jean  said  that  was  a  beautiful  story  and 
she  would  be  willing  to  have  her  head  bumped 
once  for  every  word,  if  she  could  just  write 
poetry  that  would  touch  one  cold  heart  that 
she  knew  of. 

I  said  well,  how  on  earth  did  all  this  talk 
about  words  come  up,  and  she  told  me  that  all 
171 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

her  future  happiness  depended  upon  the  mean- 
ing of  just  one  word.  Then  she  went  on  to 
tell  me  that  this  morning  she  had  seen  her  Aunt 
Merle  on  the  porch  talking  to  Mr.  St.  John ; 
so  she  slipped  around  to  the  end  of  the  porch 
like  I  shewed  her  how  to  do  when  there  was 
anything  interesting  going  on ;  and  she  had 
heard  him  tell  Miss  Merle  that  she  mustn't  "con- 
demn the  precipitation,  but  rather  consider  how 
he  could  do  otherwise."  Then  he  had  made  use 
of  a  word  that  she  never  heard  of  before  in  her 
life.  It  was  pro-pm-qui-ty;  and  Miss  Merle's 
face  had  turned  as  red  as  tomatoes  when  he  said 
it.  She  said  if  it  was  a  love  word  she  was  ready 
to  commit  suicide  of  a  broken  heart,  but  if  it 
was  a  hateful  word  and  they  were  quarreling, 
then  there  was  great  hopes  for  her.  We  looked 
it  up,  but  the  dictionary  man  didn't  explain  it 
hardly  a  bit.  Finally  I  told  Jean  as  it  was 
spelled  so  much  like  In-i-qui-ty  maybe  they 
meant  the  same  thing,  and  she  went  home  feeling 
much  easier  in  her  mind. 
172 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

I'm  in  such  a  writable  mood  to-night  that  I 
don't  know  what  to  begin  on,  and  I  reckon  I'll 
know  less  about  where  to  stop.  Mammy  Lou 
started  us  at  it,  for  her  mind  never  runs  on  a 
thing  except  loving  and  marrying.  She  asked 
me  earty  this  morning  if  we  wasn't  going  to  try 
our  fortunes  to-day  by  looking  down  into  a  well 
at  noon,  this  being  May  Day.  Me,  being  of  an 
affectionate  nature,  of  course  liked  the  idea,  so 
I  ran  right  over  to  tell  Jean,  who  was  simply 
carried  away.  She  said  it  would  be  such  a  relief 
to  her  to  see  the  face  of  her  beloved  reflected  in 
the  well;  but  I  told  her  that  to  see  any  face 
would  mean  that  she  was  going  to  get  a  husband, 
which  a  girl  ought  to  be  thankful  for,  and  not 
get  her  heart  set  on  any  particular  one.  While 
we  were  planning  about  it  Miss  Merle  came  in 
and  asked  what  it  was.  When  we  told  her  she 
smiled  and  asked  if  she  was  too  old  and  grown- 
up to  join  in  the  game,  but  I  told  her  no  indeed, 
she  didn't  act  at  all  like  a  grown  person.  I 
really  think  Miss  Merle  is  very  fascinating. 
173 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

Even  her  name,  Merle,  sounds  soft  and  sweet  to 
me,  like  a  right  fresh  marshmallow. 

Now,  naturally  anybody  would  be  excited  to 
think  that  they  were  going  to  see  their  husband's 
face  at  twelve  o'clock  in  the  bottom  of  a  well, 
and  it  seemed  to  us  that  the  time  never  would 
come.  There  is  a  very  old  well  down  in  our  pas- 
ture close  by  the  fence  which  ain't  covered  over, 
and  a  lot  of  lilac  bushes  right  around  it  in 
bloom,  so  you  couldn't  well  pick  a  prettier  spot 
for  your  future  husband's  face. 

Mammy  Lou  said  we  better  all  wear  white 
sunbonnets,  because  they  become  you  so,  and 
Miss  Merle  looked  awful  pretty  in  hers,  with  her 
dark,  curly  hair. 

I  don't  know  how  the  news  that  we  were  go- 
ing to  do  such  a  thing  ever  got  spread,  for  we 
didn't  tell  hardly  a  soul — just  mother  and 
mammy  and  Mrs.  Everett  and  the  lady  they 
board  with  and  her  married  daughter,  which  all 
promised  that  they  wouldn't  ever  tell,  but  some- 
body else  found  out  about  it,  as  you  shall  see. 
174 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

We  collected  at  the  pasture  gate  at  exactly  a 
quarter  to  twelve  and  the  minute  the  first  whistle 
blew  we  raced  to  the  well,  for  we  were  all  anxious 
to  see  our  husband  if  he  was  there.  They  said 
for  me  to  go  first  as  it  was  my  well,  but  I  said 
no,  they  must  go  first,  because  they  were  com- 
pany, but  Miss  Merle  said  for  me  to  look  first, 
then  she  and  Jean  would  look  at  the  same  time, 
as  their  husbands  wouldn't  mind  reflecting  to- 
gether, being  that  they  were  kin. 

My  heart  was  beating  so  that  I  was  about  to 
smother,  but  I  pulled  my  bonnet  down  low  over 
my  eyes  to  shut  out  any  view  except  what  was 
in  the  well,  like  mammy  told  us  to  do,  and 
leaned  'way  over  and  looked. 

Now,  up  to  this  time,  my  diary,  whenever  I 
have  mentioned  Sir  Reginald  I  was  kinder  half 
joking,  and  never  really  thought  he  would  come 
to  pass,  as  so  many  things  in  this  life  don't ;  but 
now  I  believe  it's  so.  While  I  couldn't  make  out 
his  face  very  well  and  don't  know  whether  his 
eyes  are  blue  or  brown,  and  his  nose  Roman  or 
175 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

not,  still  there  was  something  glittering  and 
shining  in  that  well  which  I  firmly  believe  was 
meant  to  be  Sir  Reginald  de  Beverley  and  his 
coat  of  mail! 

They  were  punching  me  and  saying,  "Ann,  do 
you  see  anything?"  till  I  couldn't  tell  whether  he 
smiled  at  me  or  not ;  but  I  remembered  my  man- 
ners even  on  such  a  critical  occasion,  so  I  got 
up  and  let  them  look. 

They  commenced  pulling  down  their  bonnets 
like  I  did  and  leaned  over  the  well.  I  was  on  the 
other  side,  facing  the  lilac  bushes — and  in  less 
time  than  it  takes  me  to  write  it,  me  being  in  a 
hurry  and  my  pencil  short,  there  was  something 
happening  that  made  me  feel  like  I  was  in  a 
fairy  tale.  I  saw  those  lilac  bushes  move  and 
the  next  thing  I  knew  there  was  Mr.  St.  John. 
Not  in  a  white  vest,  it's  true,  but  looking  beau- 
tiful enough,  even  in  the  daylight.  He  motioned 
to  me  not  either  to  speak  or  move,  though  I 
couldn't  have  done  either  one,  being  almost 
paralyzed  between  seeing  him  and  Sir  Reginald 
176 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

at  the  same  time.  He  tipped  up  right  easy  and 
leaned  over  the  well,  opposite  to  Miss  Merle. 

When  Jean  saw  his  image  in  the  well  she  gave 
one  overjoyed  scream  and  leaned  farther  over  to 
see  more. 

"Oh,  it's  Mr.  St.  John,"  she  called  out  to  her 
Aunt  Merle,  her  voice  sounding  very  deep  and 
hollow,  but  joyful.  "It's  Mr.  St.  John!  He's 
going  to  be  my  future  husband !" 

He  and  Miss  Merle  were  about  to  kill  them- 
selves laughing,  for  Miss  Merle  had  seen  him 
from  the  first;  but  when  Jean  looked  up  and 
saw  him  he  looked  at  her  so  sweet  that  you  felt 
like  you  could  forgive  him  anything  he  was  to 
do,  even  the  "i-ther  and  ni-ther." 

"I'd  like  to  accommodate  you,  Jean,"  he 
said,  laughing  and  catching  her  hand  with  an 
affectionate  look,  although  he  is  usually  very 
timid  and  dignified,  "but  the  fact  is — may  I 
tell,  Merle?"  And  the  way  he  said  "Merle" 
sounded  like  a  whole  box  of  marshmallows. 

Miss  Merle  smiled  at  him  and  then  he  told 
177 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Jean  if  she  would  every  bit  as  soon  have  it  that 
way,  he  would  be  her  uncle  instead  of  her  future 
husband. 

I  was  so  afraid  that  she  would  faint  or  die 
right  there  in  the  pasture  that  I  told  them  I 
heard  mother  calling  me  and  ran  as  hard  as  I 
could  tear. 

She  came  over  this  afternoon  to  tell  me  all 
about  it  and  was  feeling  strong  enough  to  eat 
a  small  basket  of  wild  goose  plums. 

"Oh,  it  was  a  terrible  shock  at  first,"  she 
said,  stopping  long  enough  to  spit  out  a  seed, 
"but  the  minute  he  said  uncle  my  love  changed. 
Why,  Ann,  an  uncle  is  an  old  person,  almost 
like  a  grandpa!  Anyway,  they've  promised 
that  I  shall  be  in  the  wedding,  dressed  in  a  pair 
of  beautiful  white  silk  stockings." 


178 


CHAPTER  X 

IT  ain't  any  easy  matter  to  keep  a  diary 
with  a  baby  in  the  house,  especially  if  he's 
at  the  watchable  age,  although  he's  such  a 
darling  one  that  you  don't  begrudge  him  the 
trouble  he  makes.  Before  you  more  than  get 
a  sentence  set  down  you  have  to  drop  every- 
thing and  run  and  jerk  the  palm-leaf  fan  out 
of  his  hands,  which  he  takes  great  pleasure  in 
ramming  the  handle  of  down  his  throat.  Then 
he  eats  great  handsful  of  the  Virginia  Creeper 
leaves  if  you  leave  him  on  the  porch  for  a  min- 
ute by  himself.  And  at  times  he  won't  be  sat- 
isfied with  anything  on  earth  unless  you  turn 
up  the  mattress  and  let  him  beat  on  the  bed- 
springs,  which  I  consider  a  smart  idea  and  think 
Cousin  Eunice  ought  to  write  out  and  send  to  a 
179 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

mazagine  under  the  head  of  "Hints  for  Tired 
Mothers."  But  I  say  it  again,  there  don't  any 
of  us  begrudge  him  these  many  little  ways,  al- 
though it's  hard  to  be  literary  with  them;  for 
when  he  smiles  and  "pat-a-cakes"  and  says  "Ah ! 
ah !"  you  don't  care  if  you  never  write  another 
line. 

Mother  made  Cousin  Eunice  turn  over  the 
raising  of  him  to  her  the  very  day  she  got  here, 
for  everybody  knows,  my  diary,  how  a  lady 
that's  ever  raised  a  baby  feels  toward  a  lady 
that's  just  owned  one  a  few  months. 

"No  flannel  on  this  precious  child!"  mother 
almost  screamed  the  minute  we  got  him  off  the 
train  and  started  to  drive  home.  "Why,  it's 
positively  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence  to 
leave  his  band  off  this  early!"  And  mother 
looked  at  Cousin  Eunice  like  she  had  done  it 
a-purpose. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Mary,  please  don't,"  poor  Cousin 
Eunice  said  like  she  was  about  to  cry.  "For 
the  last  eleven  months  there  has  been  scarcely 
180 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

a  thing  discussed  in  my  presence  but  belly- 
bands!"  (There  weren't  any  men  around.)  "It 
seems  if  a  woman  ever  has  one  baby  her 
thoughts  never  travel  away  from  flannel  bands 
afterward !" 

"But  pneumonia !  Cholera  inf antum !  Teeth- 
ing!" Mother  kept  on,  hugging  Waterloo 
close. 

"That's  what  twenty-three  of  my  neighbors 
tell  me,"  Cousin  Eunice  answered,  "then  nine- 
teen others  say  it's  cruel  to  keep  him  all  swathed 
up  in  this  hot  weather,  while  eleven  said  to 
leave  it  off  until  his  second  summer,  and  fifteen 
said  for  me  to " 

"What  does  Doctor  Gordon  say?"  mother 
asked,  to  change  the  subject  off  of  the  neigh- 
bors. 

"He     said,     'Damn     those     old     women!' ' 
Cousin  Eunice  told  her,  which  made  her  jump, 
although  it  looks  like  she  has  lived  with  father 
long  enough  not  to. 

Right  after  dinner  they  started  up  the  talk 
181 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

again.  Should  Waterloo  be  banded  or  dis- 
banded? They  hadn't  talked  long  when 
Mammy  Lou  came  into  the  room  holding  some- 
thing under  her  apron.  She  looked  kinder  mad 
and  dignified  at  mother  and  Cousin  Eunice  be- 
cause they  hadn't  asked  her  for  her  say-so 
about  bands. 

"If  it's  entirely  respectable  for  me  to  speak 
before  I'm  spoke  to,"  she  commenced,  her  voice 
very  proud  and  haughty,  "I'd  like  for  you  all 
to  pay  me  some  mind.  There's  two  subjec's 
I'm  well  qualified  to  speak  about  and  one  is 
babies.  Ain't  I  done  raised  a  bushel  basket  full 
o'  little  niggers,  let  alone  that  one  beautiful 
little  white  angel  that's  the  peartest  and  sweet- 
est of  any  in  the  state?" 

Which  made  me  feel  very  much  embarrassed 
with  modestness. 

"We  all  know  that  you  made  a  good  job  of 
Ann,"  Cousin  Eunice  said  very  pleasantly  just 
to  pacify  her.  "What  would  you  suggest  about 
little  Rufus?" 

182 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"These!"  Mammy  Lou  said,  drawing  her 
hand  out  from  her  apron  like  a  man  on  the 
stage  dressed  in  velvet  does  his  sword  and  we 
saw  a  string  of  speckled  beans. 

"Job's  Tears,"  mammy  told  the  company. 
"Ther  ain't  no  need  to  worry  about  bands  when 
you've  got  these!  Ther  nuwer  has  been  a  child 
that  cut  teeth  hard  from  Adam  on  down  if  his 
ma  put  a  string  of  these  aroun'  his  neck " 

Cousin  Eunice  was  beginning  to  say  some- 
thing nice  when  father  spoke  up  and  asked 
mammy  who  it  was  that  put  them  around 
Adam's  neck,  which  made  her  mad. 

"Poke  all  the  fun  you  want  to,"  she  said, 
"but  the  time  will  come  that  you-all  'ull  be 
thankful  to  me  for  savin'  these  for  Mr.  Rufe's 
baby,  or  I'm  a  blue-gum  nigger !" 

Lots  of  times  I  take  Waterloo  over  to  make 
Jean  a  visit,  which  is  easy  on  everybody,  for 
the  folks  over  there  love  babies  so  that  they  re- 
lieve me  of  his  weight  the  minute  I  get  there 
and  leave  me  and  Jean  free  to  do  whatever  we 
183 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

want  to.  She  is  teaching  me  what  she  calls  "ar- 
tistic handwriting"  now,  using  an  actress'  sig- 
nature for  a  copy.  It  consists  of  some  very 
large  letters  and  some  very  small  ones,  like  the 
charts  in  an  eye-doctor's  office  that  he  uses  to 
see  if  you're  old  enough  to  wear  spectacles. 

Cousin  Eunice  has  time  now  with  so  many 
folks  to  help  tend  to  Waterloo  to  slip  off  every 
morning  and  go  to  a  quiet  place  down  in  the 
yard  with  her  paper  and  pencil  and  compose  on 
a  book  she's  trying  to  write.  Before  she  was 
ever  married  she  wanted  to  write  a  book,  and  if 
you  once  get  that  idea  into  your  head  even 
marrying  won't  knock  it  out. 

Cousin  Eunice  says  I'm  such  a  kindred  spirit 
that  I  don't  bother  her  when  I  go  along  too, 
but  she  has  a  dreadful  time  at  her  own  house 
trying  to  write.  She  don't  more  than  get  her 
soul  full  of  beautiful  thoughts  about  tall,  pale 
men  and  long-stemmed  roses  and  other  things 
like  that  before  a  neighbor  drops  in  and  talks 
for  three  hours  about  the  lady  around  the  cor- 
184 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

ner's  husband  staying  out  so  late  at  night  and 
what  her  servants  use  to  scrub  the  kitchen  sink. 
I  told  her  I  knew  one  lady  that  hated  so  for 
folks  to  drop  in  that  she  unscrewed  the  front 
doorbell,  so  she  couldn't  hear  them  ring,  but 
she  got  paid  back  for  it  next  day  by  missing 
the  visit  of  a  rich  relation. 

Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice  may  live  to  be  thank- 
ful for  the  string  of  Job's  Tears,  but  I  reckon 
to-night  Miss  Merle  and  Mr.  St.  John  wish  that 
Job  never  shed  a  tear  in  the  shape  of  a  bean, 
for  they  were  what  a  grown  person  would  call 
"the  indirect  cause"  of  a  quarrel  between  them. 
It's  queer  that  such  a  little  thing  as  Waterloo 
should  be  picked  out  by  Fate  to  break  up  a  lov- 
ing couple,  but  he  did ;  although  I  ain't  saying 
that  it  was  altogether  his  fault. 

This  afternoon  I  took  him  over  to  Jean's  and 
we  were  having  a  lovely  time  out  on  their  fronts- 
porch,  enjoying  stories  of  her  former  sweet- 
hearts and  a  bottle  of  stuffed  olives.      She  told 
186 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

me  about  one  she  had  last  winter  that  she  was 
deeply  attached  to.  She  would  see  him  at  a  big 
library  in  the  city  where  she  loves  to  read  every 
afternoon.  She  saw  him  there  one  time  and  got 
to  admiring  him  so  much  that  she  would  go  up 
there  every  afternoon  at  the  time  she  knew  he 
would  be  there  and  get  a  book  and  sit  opposite 
him,  making  like  she  was  reading,  but  really 
feasting  her  eyes  on  his  lovely  hair  and  scholar- 
ly looking  finger-nails. 

"I  never  got  acquainted  with  him,  so  never 
learned  his  name,"  she  told  me,  jabbing  her  hat- 
pin deep  down  into  the  olive  bottle,  like  little 
Jack  Horner,  "but  he  was  always  reading  about 
'The  Origin  of  the  Aryan  Family,'  so  I'm  sure 
he  was  a  young  Mr.  Aryan." 

I  told  her  I  certainly  had  heard  the  Aryan 
family  spoken  of,  I  couldn't  remember  where, 
but  she  said  oh,  yes,  she  knew  it  was  a  swell 
family  and  that  I  must  have  read  about  it  in 
the  pink  sheet  of  the  Sunday  paper. 

Then  she  said  she  had  a  souvenir  of  him, 
186 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

and,  as  I'm  crazy  about  souvenirs,  I  begged 
her  to  go  and  get  it,  hoping  very  much  that  it 
was  a  miniature  on  ivory  set  in  diamonds. 

"What  is  it?"  I  kept  asking  her,  as  she  was 
trying  to  get  her  legs  untangled  out  of  her 
petticoats  to  get  up  and  go  after  it;  we  were 
sitting  flat  down  on  the  floor,  which  sometimes 
tangles  your  heels  dreadfully.  Finally  she  got 
up,  tearing  a  piece  of  trimming  out,  which  she 
did  up  in  a  little  ball  and  threw  away,  so  her 
mother  would  lay  it  on  the  washerwoman  when 
she  saw  the  tear. 

"Ashes;"  she  told  me,  kinder  whispery,  after 
she  had  reached  the  front  door,  for  she  was 
afraid  somebody  would  hear ;  but  it  gave  me  a 
terrible  feeling  and  I  wondered  how  she  got 
them  away  from  his  relations  and  whether  she 
had  to  go  to  the  graveyard  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  to  do  it  or  not.  I  comforted  myself  with 
the  thought  that  they  would  be  in  a  prettily 
ornamented  urn,  even  if  they  were  ashes,  for  I 
had  read  about  urns  in  Roman  history;  but 
187 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

shucks !  when  she  got  back  it  wasn't  a  thing  but 
a  pink  chewing-gum  wrapper  full  of  cigar  ashes 
that  he  had  thrown  away  one  day  right  in  front 
of  her  as  they  were  going  up  the  steps  to  the 
library. 

Before  I  had  time  to  tell  her  how  disap- 
pointed I  was  there  came  a  picture-taking  man 
up  the  front  walk  and  asked  us  to  let  him  take 
Waterloo's  picture  for  some  post-cards.  If 
you  were  pleased  you  could  buy  them  and  if 
you  weren't  you  didn't  have  to.  But  he  knew 
of  course  there  wouldn't  any  lady  be  hard- 
hearted enough  not  to  buy  a  picture  of  her  own 
baby. 

Nothing  could  have  delighted  us  more,  un- 
less the  man  had  said  take  our  pictures;  and 
Jean  remarked  that  Waterloo  ought  to  be  fixed 
up  funny  to  correspond  with  the  string  of  beads 
around  his  neck.  She  ran  and  got  a  pair  of 
overalls  that  belonged  to  the  lady  she  boards 
with's  little  boy  and  we  stuffed  Waterloo  in. 
He  looked  too  cute  for  anything  and  we  was 
188 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

just  settling  him  down  good  for  the  picture 
when  Jean  spoke  up  again  and  said  oh,  wasn't 
it  a  pity  that  he  didn't  have  any  hair  on  his 
head,  as  hair  showed  up  so  well  in  a  picture.  I 
told  her  it  was  aristocratic  not  to  have  hair 
when  you're  a  baby,  on  your  head.  She  said 
shucks !  how  could  anything  connected  with  a 
baby  be  aristocratic?  This  made  me  mad  and  I 
told  her  maybe  she  didn't  know  what  it  was  to 
be  aristocratic.  She  said  she  did,  too ;  it  was 
aristocratic  to  have  a  wide  front  porch  to  your 
house  and  to  eat  sweetbreads  when  you  were 
dining  in  a  hotel.  I  was  thinking  up  something 
else  to  say  when  the  picture-taking  man  said 
hurry  up.  There  is  a  great  deal  more  to  this, 
but  it  is  so  late  that  I'm  going  to  leave  the  rest 
for  to-morrow  night.  Anyhow  maybe  my 
grandchildren  will  be  more  interested  to  go  on 
and  read,  for  magazine  writers  always  chop 
their  stories  off  at  the  most  particular  spot, 
when  they  are  going  to  be  continued,  just 
where  you  are  holding  your  breath,  so  as  to 
189 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

make  you  buy  the  next  number  of  the  maga- 


zine. 


Well,  in  just  a  minute  after  we  were  talking 
about  the  hair  Jean  said  she  knew  the  -very 
thing !  Her  Aunt  Merle  was  up  on  the  far  back 
porch  drying  her  hair  that  she  had  just  fin- 
ished washing,  and  had  left  her  rat  lying  on 
her  bureau.  She  had  seen  it  there  when  she 
went  to  get  the  ashes  of  Mr.  Aryan.  She 
said  it  was  a  lovely  rat,  which  cost  five  dollars, 
all  covered  with  long  brown  hair;  and  she  said 
it  was  just  the  thing  to  set  off  Waterloo's  bald 
head  fine.  So  she  ran  and  got  it  and  we  fixed 
it  on.  He  looked  exactly  like  a  South  Sea 
Islander  which  you  see  in  the  side  show  of  an 
exposition  by  paying  twenty-five  cents  extra. 
(An  exposition  is  a  large  place  which  makes 
your  feet  nearly  kill  you.)  But  the  picture-man 
said  he  looked  mighty  cute  and  snapped  him  in 
several  splendid  positions. 

Now,  if  Mr.  St.  John  had  just  stayed  where 
190 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

he  belonged  this  would  be  the  end  of  the  story 
and  I  could  go  on  to  bed  to-night,  without  hav- 
ing to  sit  up  by  myself  writing  till  the  clocks 
strike  eleven,  which  is  a  lonesome  hour  when 
everybody  else  is  in  bed. 

But  Mr.  St.  John  didn't  stay  away;  and,  as 
all  the  bad  things  that  happen  are  laid  on  Fate, 
I  reckon  she  was  the  one  that  put  it  into  his 
head  to  walk  up  those  front  steps  and  on  to 
that  porch  before  we  noticed  him,  for  we  were 
trying  our  best  to  get  Waterloo  back  into  citi- 
zen's clothes. 

He  stopped  to  see  what  it  was  we  were 
scrambling  over,  and  when  he  saw  that  it  was 
alive  he  threw  up  his  nice  white  hands  and  re- 
marked "Heavens!"  which  is  the  elegant  thing 
to  say  when  you're  surprised,  although  father 
always  says,  "Jumping  Jerusalem !" 

"What  is  the  thing?"  he  asked,  after  he  had 

looked  again.    Jean  told  him  why  it  was  just  the 

lady  over  at  our  house's  little  baby  dressed  up. 

Then    he    asked    what    that    horrible    woolly 

191 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

growth  on  his  head  was,  which  tickled  Jean 
mightily.  Then,  just  for  the  fun  of  seeing 
what  he  would  say  when  he  was  very  much  sur- 
prised, she  jerked  it  off  and  held  it  up,  like  the 
executioner  did  Mary,  Queen  of  Scot's  head, 
which  gives  me  a  crinkly  pain  up  and  down  my 
back  even  to  read  about.  The  rat  was  just 
pinned  together  and  set  up  on  Waterloo's  little 
noggin,  so  Jean  jerked  it  off  and  explained 
to  Mr.  St.  John  that  it  was  her  Aunt  Merle's 
rat.  7  always  knew  it  wasn't  any  good  idea  to 
talk  about  such  things  before  a  man  that  was 
a  person's  lover;  but  I  thought  Jean  had  had 
more  experience  in  such  things  than  I  had  and 
it  wasn't  my  place  to  interrupt  her. 

I  am  sure  Mr.  St.  John  felt  like  saying 
"Jumping  Jerusalem"  when  Jean  told  him  that 
the  woolly  growth  was  the  rat  of  his  beloved. 
If  I  was  writing  a  novel  I'd  say  that  he  "re- 
coiled with  horror,"  that  is,  he  jumped  back 
quickly,  like  he  didn't  want  it  to  bite  him,  and 
sat  down. 

192 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"Imagine!"  he  kept  saying  to  himself  like 
he  was  dazed;  "imagine  a  man  toucMng  the 
thing !  Kissing  the  thing !" 

I  thought,  of  course,  he  was  talking  about 
Waterloo,  and  was  ready  to  speak  up  and  say, 
"I  thank  you,  Mr.  St.  John,  my  little  cousin  is 
not  to  be  called  a  'thing,'  "  but  Jean  spoke 
first. 

"What  would  you  want  to  kiss  this  for?"  she 
asked  him.  "  'Tain't  any  harm  to  kiss  in  the 
mouth  after  you're  engaged,  is  it  ?" 

We  might  have  been  standing  there  asking 
him  such  questions  as  that  till  daylight  this 
morning  for  all  the  answers  we  got  out  of  him, 
but  while  he  sat  looking  at  us  and  we  were  try- 
ing to  squirm  Waterloo's  little  fat  legs  out  of 
the  overalls  and  him  kicking  and  crying,  Miss 
Merle  walked  out  on  the  porch.  She  saw  Mr. 
St.  John  first,  as  you  would  naturally  expect 
an  engaged  girl  to  do,  and  started  toward  him, 
but  just  then  she  saw  us  and  stopped. 

"Why,  what  on  earth  are  you  children  doing 
193 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

with  my  rat  down  here?"  she  asked,  not  looking 
a  bit  ashamed. 

We  told  her  what  we  had  been  doing  with  it 
and  she  just  laughed  and  said  well,  it  was  too 
hot  to  wear  the  thing  on  such  a  day  anyway, 
although  she  had  looked  for  it  high  and  low. 

All  the  time  we  were  talking  Mr.  St.  John 
looked  at  her  in  the  most  amazed  way,  like  he 
expected  to  see  her  appear  looking  like  a  Mex- 
ican dog,  but  was  greatly  surprised  to  see  her 
with  such  a  nice  lot  of  home-made  hair.  If  he 
had  had  any  sense  he  would  admire  her  all  the 
more  for  not  telling  a  story  about  that  rat ;  for 
I've  seen  a  thousand  young  ladies  in  my  life 
that  wouldn't  have  owned  up  to  it  for  a  hundred 
dollars,  but  would  have  made  their  little  niece 
out  a  story  and  then  boxed  her  ears  in  private. 
I  hope  when  I  get  grown  I  won't  be  a  liarable 
young  lady,  although  it  does  seem  like  they're 
twice  as  quick  to  get  married  as  an  honest  one. 

He  didn't  act  with  good  sense,  though,  for 
they  soon  got  to  talking  and  we  could  hear 
194 


what  they  said  ( although  we  were  out  of  sight) 
for  they  were  high-toned  remarks. 

He  said  he  hated  shams,  and  she  said  well, 
that  wasn't  any  sham  for  every  blowsy-headed 
girl  wears  them  nowadays  and  everybody  knows 
it,  even  the  poets  and  novel-writers  that  always 
make  their  heroines  so  fuzzy-headed.  Then  she 
called  him  a  prig  and  he  said  something  back 
at  her  and  she  gave  him  back  the  ring,  which 
was  a  brave  thing  to  do,  it  being  a  grand  dia- 
mond one  with  Mizpath  marked  in  it. 

Of  course  the  next  thing  that  happens  after 
an  engagement  is  broken  is  for  it  to  get  mended 
again.  All  day  we  have  hung  around  Miss 
Merle  to  see  just  when  she  gets  the  ring  back 
again,  but  up  to  a  late  hour  to-night,  as  the 
newspapers  say  about  the  election  returns, 
there  was  nothing  doing.  Oh,  it  does  seem 
a  pity  that  they  would  let  the  news  go  down  to 
their  children  or  be  put  on  their  tombstones  that 
their  lives  were  blighted  on  account  of  a  rat ! 
195 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

I've  neglected  you,  my  diary,  for  the  last 
few  days  because  my  mind  has  been  on  other 
things.  It  rained  all  the  next  day  after  I  wrote 
last  and  I  couldn't  go  over  to  Jean's,  which  put 
me  out  greatly.  I  finally  thought  about  send- 
ing a  note  by  Lares  and  Penates  and  paid  them 
in  chicken  livers,  me  being  so  uneasy  in  my  mind 
that  I  didn't  have  any  appetite  for  them,  and 
knowing  that  they  loved  them  enough  to  fight 
over  them  any  time. 

I  told  Jean  in  the  note  to  fix  some  kind  of 
signal  like  Paul  Revere  to  let  me  know  the  min- 
ute the  ring  got  back  to  Miss  Merle,  for  I  was 
deeply  worried,  me  and  Waterloo  and  Jean  be- 
ing to  blame  for  it.  Then,  too,  it  is  dangerous 
for  an  engagement  ring  to  stay  returned  too 
long  for  it  might  get  given  to  another  girl. 

Jean  was  delighted  with  my  note  and  said 
she  would  certainly  hang  a  lantern  in  the  gar- 
ret only  she  never  could  undo  the  chimney  of  a 
lantern  to  light  it,  and  never  saw  a  lady  per- 
son that  could;  but  it  was  a  romantic  idea. 
196 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

So  she  thought  hanging  a  white  towel  in  the 
window  that  faces  our  house  for  a  signal  would 
do  very  well,  and  I  could  know  by  that  if  it 
kept  on  raining  and  I  couldn't  get  over  there. 

Well,  I  was  so  interested  that  I  hardly  moved 
from  that  side  of  the  house  all  day,  until  it 
got  so  dark  that  I  couldn't  see  the  house,  much 
less  a  towel.  So  I  went  sorrowfully  to  bed. 
The  next  morning  I  was  delighted  to  see  that  I 
was  going  to  get  rewarded  for  my  watching, 
for  long  before  breakfast  I  discovered  a  white 
thing,  and  it  was  waving  from  Mr.  St.  John's 
window,  which  made  it  all  the  surer  in  my 
mind. 

Although  it  was  cakes  and  maple  syrup  I 
didn't  waste  much  time  over  breakfast,  but 
grabbed  my  hat  and  started  for  Jean's. 

Miss  Merle  was  on  the  front  porch  and  I  no- 
ticed Mr.  St.  John  just  inside  the  hall,  looking 
like  he  would  like  to  come  out,  but  was  waiting 
for  her  to  give  him  lief.  She  looked  up  at  me 
quick. 

197 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

"Why,  Ann,"  she  said,  "what  are  you  in  such 
a  big  hurry  about?" 

I've  often  noticed,  my  diary,  that  when  people 
are  in  a  hurry  and  can't  think  of  anything  else 
to  tell  they  tell  the  truth,  although  they  don't 
intend  to.  It  was  that  way  with  me. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  and  Mr.  St.  John  have 
made  up !"  I  told  her,  fanning  hard  with  my  hat, 
for  I  was  all  out  of  breath. 

She  looked  very  strange  and  asked  me, 
"What?"  and  so  I  told  her  over  again.  Just 
then  Mr.  St.  John  came  out  and  asked  who  was 
that  talking  about  him  behind  his  back.  He 
looked  pitiful,  although  he  tried  to  look  pleas- 
ant, too. 

Jean  heard  me  talking  and  came  running 
down  the  stairs  just  in  time  to  hear  me  telling 
it  over  again  to  Miss  Merle. 

"Why,  there  ain't  a  sign  of  a  towel  hanging 
out  the  window,"  she  told  me,  looking  very  much 
surprised    and    me    greatly    mortified.      "You 
must  have  dreamed  it!" 
198 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Miss  Merle  asked  her  then  what  she  was 
talking  about  and  it  was  their  turn  to  look 
surprised  when  she  told  them. 

I  told  them  I  had  felt  awfully  bad  about  the 
rat,  because  me  and  Waterloo  was  partly  re- 
sponsible, and  they  kinder  smiled.  But  I  couldn't 
let  them  think  that  I  had  made  up  the  towel 
story,  so  I  told  them  if  they  would  come  around 
on  the  side  that  faces  our  house  I'd  show  them. 
Mr.  St.  John  and  Miss  Merle  looked  at  each 
other  very  peculiar  and  he  said : 

"It's  a  shame  to  disappoint  the  children!" 
which  she  didn't  make  any  answer  to,  but  she 
looked  tolerable  agreeable.  Then  I  begged 
them  to  come  on  around  to  Mr.  St.  John's  win- 
dow and  I  could  show  them  I  wasn't  any  story. 

"My  window!"  he  said,  looking  surprised; 
then  his  face  turned  red.  "Why,  it  must  have 
been  my  er — shirt  I  hung  there  last  night  to  dry 
after  I  was  out  in  that  shower!" 

We  couldn't  help  from  laughing,  all  of  us; 
but  he  laughs  like  the  corners  of  his  mouth  ain't 
199 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

used  to  it.  That  is  one  bad  thing  about  a  digni- 
fied man — they're  always  afraid  to  let  their 
mouth  muscles  stretch. 

Miss  Merle  caught  me  and  Jean  by  the  hand 
with  a  smile  and  said  let's  go  and  see  what  that 
signal  looked  like  that  brought  Ann  over  in 
such  a  hurry.  "A  shirt  is  a  highly  proper  thing 
to  discuss — since  Thomas  Hood,"  she  said  as 
we  started  down  the  steps. 

"Pray  don't,"  he  said,  the  corners  of  his 
mouth  wrinkling  again,  but  his  face  just  cov- 
ered with  red.  "I'll  be  the  happiest  man  on 
earth,  Merle,  if  you'll  just  forgive  me  for  my 

asininity  ;  but — do  come  back ! For  it's  an 

undershirt!" 


200 


CHAPTER  XI 

on  in,  the  egg-nog's  fine,"  Rufe 
called  out  to  us  as  we  came  up  the 
walk  to  the  side  gate  this  morning,  a  beau- 
tiful Christmas  morning,  after  a  long  tramp 
down  through  the  wood  lot  and  up  the  ravine. 

"Come  on  out,  the  ozone's  finer,"  -Cousin 
Eunice  sang  back  at  him ;  then  stopped  still, 
leaned  against  the  gate-post  and  looked  up  at 
the  mistletoe  hanging  in  the  trees  all  about. 

"You  can  get  ozone  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  days  in  the  year,  egg-nog  but  one !"  he  hol- 
lered again,  but  I  saw  him  set  his  glass  down 
and  start  to  swing  Waterloo  up  on  his  shoulder. 
No  matter  how  long  they  have  been  married  you 
can  always  find  Rufe  wanting  to  be  where 
Cousin  Eunice  is,  and  vice  versa. 
201 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Long  ago  anybody  reading  in  my  diary  would 
have  seen  that  mother  is  the  kind  of  woman  who 
loves  to  mother  anything  that  needs  it,  from  a 
little  chicken  with  the  gapes  to  a  college  pro- 
fessor out  in  a  storm  without  his  rubbers ;  and 
the  latest  notion  she  has  taken  up  is  to  see  that 
Miss  Martha  Claxton,  one  of  the  teachers  in  a 
girls'  school  that  has  been  opened  up  near  here, 
shall  not  get  homesick  during  the  week-ends. 
We  all  like  her,  Mammy  Lou  even  saving  the 
top  of  the  churning  every  Friday  to  make  cot- 
tage cheese  for  her;  and  Cousin  Eunice  said 
she  knew  she  was  a  kindred  spirit  as  soon  as  she 
said  she  could  eat  a  bottle  of  olives  at  one  sit- 
ting and  loved  Baby  Stuart's  picture.  So  we 
invited  her  to  go  walking  with  us  this  morning 
and  Cousin  Eunice  told  her  all  about  her  court- 
ing in  the  ravine. 

7  also  knew  about  her  peculiarity,  which 
Cousin  Eunice  didn't ;  but  I  didn't  like  to  men- 
tion it,  for  Miss  Claxton  had  smashed  her  eye- 
glasses all  to  pieces  yesterday  and  was  wearing 
202 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

an  embroidered  waist  and  a  string  of  coral,  so 
instead  of  looking  intellectual,  as  she  usually 
does,  she  looked  just  like  other  girls.  But  the 
men  of  our  family  all  laugh  at  her  behind  her 
back  and  call  her  "The  Knocker,"  because  she 
carries  a  hammer  with  her  on  all  her  rambles 
instead  of  a  poetry  book,  and  knocks  the  very 
jiblets  out  of  little  rocks  to  see  if  they've  got 
any  fossils  on  their  insides.  In  other  words, 
she  is  a  geologist.  A  person  ought  not  to  blame 
her  though  until  she  has  had  time  to  explain  to 
them  that  her  father  was  professor  of  it  and 
had  a  chair  in  a  college  when  she  was  born.  So 
he  taught  her  all  about  rocky  subjects  when  she 
was  little,  and  she's  crazy  about  it.  Still, 
I  would  rather  be  with  a  person  that  is  crazy 
about  geology  than  one  that  isn't  crazy  at  all. 
I  hate  medium  people.  But,  as  I  have  said,  we 
are  all  very  fond  of  her,  although  she  has  never 
done  anything  since  I've  known  her  that  would 
be  worth  writing  about  in  this  book,  not  having 
any  lover;  so  it  has  been  lying  on  the  shelf  all 
203 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

covered  with  dust  ever  since  Jean  left.  Some- 
times I  think  I'll  never  find  another  Jean ! 

To  get  back  to  my  subject,  though,  this 
morning  was  lovely — cool  enough  to  keep  your 
hair  in  curl  (if  you  were  a  grown  lady)  and 
warm  enough  to  make  your  cheeks  pink. 
Cousin  Eunice  said  she  couldn't  go  back  into  the 
house  while  the  sunshine  was  so  golden,  so  we 
leaned  our  elbows  on  the  fence  and  Miss  Clax- 
ton  examined  a  handful  of  pebbles  she  had 
picked  up  on  our  walk.  Pretty  soon  Rufe  came 
out  with  Waterloo  on  his  shoulder  and  in  his 
hands  a  horse  that  can  walk  on  wheels  and 
a  mule  that  can  wag  his  head,  ears,  legs  and 
tail  and  say,  "queek,  queek,"  all  at  the  same 
time. 

"Oh,  Rufe,  isn't  it  lovely?"  Cousin  Eunice 
said,  looking  away  toward  the  hills  and  sigh- 
ing that  half-sad  sigh  that  rises  in  you  when 
you  see  something  beautiful  and  can't  eat  it  nor 
drink  it  nor  squeeze  it. 

"Isn't  what  lovely,  your  complexion?"  he  an- 
204. 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

swered,  just  to  tease  her,  for  Rufe  loves  the 
outdoors  as  much  as  any  of  us,  and  if  Water- 
loo takes  after  his  mother  and  father  both,  he 
will  never  sleep  in  anything  more  civilized  than 
a  wigwam. 

"Don't  joke,"  she  said.  "It's  too  beautiful— 
and  too  fleeting !  Just  think,  in  another  week 
we'll  be  back,  dwelling  with  the  rest  of  the  fools 
amid  the  tall  buildings  !" 

"It  is  everything  you  say,"  he  answered  sober- 
ly, looking  in  the  direction  she  pointed,  and  he 
seemed  to  have  that  happy,  hurting  feeling 
that  comes  to  you  when  you  look  at  Lord 
Byron's  picture,  or  smell  lilies-of-the-valley. 

"Don't  you  feel  light  on  a  morning  like  this  ?" 
Cousin  Eunice  said  again,  still  looking  at  the 
hills.  "Couldn't  you  do  anything?" 

"Anything !"  he  echoed.  "Even  push  my 
paper  to  the  hundred  thousand  mark — or  carry 
a  message  to  Garcia." 

"Especially  the  message  to  Garcia !  Now 
couldn't  you?"  she  said  with  a  bright  smile.  "I 
205 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

could  do  that  myself,  without  even  mussing  up 
my  white  linen  blouse !" 

Miss  Claxton  looked  up  at  them  with  a 
puzzled  look,  and  Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice  un- 
hitched hands. 

"Miss  Claxton,"  Rufe  began  with  a  half-teas- 
ing twinkle  in  his  eyes  (I  had  heard  father  tell- 
ing him  a  while  ago  about  Miss  Claxton  being  a 
knocker),  "this  little  affair  about  the  message 
to  Garcia  happened  a  bit  this  side  of  the 
Eocene  age,  so  maybe  you  haven't  bothered 
your  head  about  it.  I  might  explain  that " 

"Nobody  asked  you  to,  sir,"  she  said,  with 
such  a  rainbow  of  a  smile  at  him  that  I  was 
surprised.  If  she  could  smile  like  that  at  a  mar- 
ried man  what  would  she  do  at  a  single  one?  "I 
know  a  lot  more  things  than  I  look  to — with  my 
glasses  on !  That  carrying  the  message  to 
Garcia  was  a  brave  thing  to  do,  even  aside  from 
the  risks.  It  is  heroic  to  do  the  thing  at  hand. 
I'm  trying  to  learn  that  lesson  myself.  I'm 
being  a  schoolmarm  and  wearing  glasses  to 
206 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

look  like  one,  instead  of  following  my  natural 
bent  in  the  scientific  field,"  she  wound  up,  still 
smiling. 

"What's  your  ambition  ?"  Cousin  Eunice  said, 
looking  at  her  wonderingly. 

"Knowing  what's  to  be  known  about  Primi- 
tive Man,"  Miss  Claxton  answered.  "He's  the 
only  man  I  ever  cared  a  copper  cent  about !" 

"Mine's  writing  a  book  that  will  make  me 
famous  overnight,  I  don't  want  to  wait  to  awake 
some  morning  and  find  myself  so,"  Cousin 
Eunice  said,  stooping  over  to  set  Waterloo's 
horse  up  on  his  wheels,  for  he  would  come  un- 
fixed every  time  Waterloo  would  yank  him  over 
a  gravel ;  and  all  the  time  we  were  talking  he 
kept  up  a  chorus  of  "Fick  horte !  Fick  horte !" 

Rufe  said  his  ambition  was  never  to  see  an 
editor's  paste-pot  again,  and  he  was  turning  to 
me  to  ask  what  mine  is  when  the  conversation 
was  interrupted.  I  was  glad  that  it  was,  for  I 
should  hate  to  tell  them  just  what  mine  is. 
Somehow  it  is  mostly  about  Sir  Reginald  de 
207 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Beverley,  and  I'm  old  enough  now  to  know  that 
he  may  not  be  an  English  lord  after  all  and 
dress  in  a  coat  of  mail.  He  may  be  just  a  plain 
young  doctor  or  lawyer,  and  we'll  have  to  live 
in  a  cottage  (only  excuse  me  from  a  flat,  I 
wouldn't  live  in  a  flat  with  Lord  Byron)  and 
maybe  we'll  just  have  chicken  on  Sunday.  But 
as  long  as  he  has  brown  eyes  and  broad 
shoulders  and  lovely  teeth  I  shall  manage  to  do 
with  crackers  and  peanut  butter  through  the 
week.  A  woman  will  do  anything  for  the  man 
she  loves. 

But  I  didn't  have  to  tell  them  all  this,  for  just 
then  we  heard  the  gate  click  and  saw  our  friend, 
Mr.  Gayle,  coming  up  the  walk. 

"There  comes  old  Zephyr,"  Rufe  said  with  a 
laugh.  "It  was  the  biggest  lie  on  earth  to  name 
him  Gayle.  Even  Breeze  would  have  been  an 
exaggeration." 

"He's  awfully  smart,"  I  told  Rufe,  for  I  hate 
to  have  my  friends  laughed  at.     "I  know  you 
and  Julius  joke  about  him  on  account  of  his 
208 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

gentle  ways  and  broad-brimmed  hats !  Father 
says  it's  better  to  have  something  under  your 
hat  than  to  have  so  much  style  in  its  looks !" 

"Well,  he  has  something  under  his  hat," 
Cousin  Eunice  said,  "and  hat  enough  to  cover 
twice  as  much.  But  I  think  those  old-timey 
things  are  becoming  to  him!" 

"What  is  the  subject  about  which  he  knows 
so  much?"  Miss  Claxton  asked,  following  him 
with  her  eyes  until  Dilsey  let  him  in  at  the  front 
door. 

"Heaven,"  Rufe  answered  her,  "and  hell.  He 
writes  deep  psychological  stuff  for  the  maga- 
zines and  they  pay  him  ten  cents  a  word  for  it. 
He  must  spend  his  dimes  building  model  tene- 
ments, for  he  certainly  doesn't  buy  new  hats 
with  them." 

"What  does  he  say  about  Heaven  and  the 
other  place?"  Miss  Claxton  asked,  much  to  our 
surprise,  for  we  had  thought  she  didn't  care 
about  anything  but  earth. 

"He  says  they're  both  in  your  own  heart. 
209 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

'The  Heaven  side  comes  up  when  you've  done  a 
decent  job  at  your  work — and  loved  your  office 
boy  as  your  own  nephew !" 

"And "  Miss  Claxton  kept  on. 

"And  the  hell  part  comes  into  the  limelight 
when  you've  done  anything  mean,  such  as " 

"Spanking  your  Waterloo  when  the  tele- 
phone bell  makes  you  nervous — not  when  he's 
bad,"  Cousin  Eunice  said,  gathering  Waterloo 
up  in  her  arms  and  loving  him.  "Him's  a  pre- 
cious angel,  and  mudder's  a  nasty  lady  to  him 
lots  of  times." 

"Aunt  Mary  is  sending  him  out  here  to  find 
us,"  Rufe  said,  as  we  saw  Mr.  Gayle  coming  out 
of  the  dining-room  door.  "I  hope  she's  filled 
him  so  full  of  egg-nog  that  we  can  have  some 
fun  out  of  him !" 

He  had  on  a  Sunday-looking  suit  of  black 
clothes  and  a  soft  black  tie  in  honor  of  the  day, 
and  was  really  nice-looking  as  he  came  up  to- 
ward us.  And  Miss  Claxton  threw  away  the 
last  one  of  her  pebbles,  no  matter  what  they 
210 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

had  on  their  insides,  and  commenced  wiping  her 
hands  vigorously  with  her  handkerchief. 

"Thank  goodness!"  I  thought  as  I  watched 
her.  "I  shall  go  straight  up-stairs  and  wipe  the 
dust  off  my  diary  with  my  petticoat !" 

I  reckon  Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice  both 
thought  that  Mr.  Gayle  and  Miss  Claxton  had 
met  before,  for  they  didn't  offer  to  introduce 
them,  but  I  knew  they  hadn't,  so  I  was  the  one 
that  had  to  do  it.  I  had  forgotten  how  The 
Ladies'  Own  Journal  said  it  ought  to  be  done, 
and  I  was  kinder  scared  anyway  ;  and  when  I  get 
scared  I  always  make  an  idiot  of  myself.  So  I 
just  grabbed  her  right  hand  and  his  right  hand 
and  put  them  together  and  said,  "Mr.  Gayle,  do 
shake  hands  with  Miss  Claxton!" 

Well,  they  shook  hands,  but  the  others  all 
laughed  at  me.  Cousin  Eunice  said  she  was 
sorry  she  didn't  know  they  hadn't  met  before, 
or  she  would  have  introduced  them.  But  Mr. 
Gayle  smiled  at  me  to  keep  me  from  feeling  bad. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said,  "I'm  sure  Ann's  intro- 


THE   ANNALS   OF   ANN 

duction  is  as  good  as  anybody's.  What  she  lacks 
in  form  she  more  than  makes  up  for  in  sin- 
cerity." 

I  thought  it  was  nice  of  him  to  say  that,  but 
I  was  so  embarrassed  that  I  got  away  from 
them  as  soon  as  I  could.  I  went  out  to  the 
kitchen  to  see  if  Mammy  Lou  was  ready  to  stuff 
the  turkey.  Lares  and  Penates  were  on  the  floor 
playing  with  two  little  automobiles  that  Julius 
had  brought  them.  Mammy  Lou  was  fixing  to 
cut  up  the  liver  in  the  gravy. 

"Please  don't,"  I  began  to  beg  her,  "I'll  go 
halves  with  Lares  and  Penates  if  you'll  give  it 
to  me !" 

"You  don't  deserve  nothin',"  she  said,  trying 
to  look  at  me  and  not  laugh.  "I  seen  you  out 
thar  by  the  side  gate,  aggin'  'em  on!  Reckon 
you're  in  your  glory,  now  that  you've  got  a  pair 
of  'em  to  spy  on  and  write  it  all  out  in  that 
pesky  little  book  !" 

"Oh,  they  ain't  a  pair!"  I  told  her,  slicing 
up  the  liver  into  three  equal  halves. 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"They  soon  will  be  if  they  listen  to  you !" 

"Never  in  this  world !  She  says  she  never  has 
cared  for  anybody  but  a  person  she  calls  'Prim- 
itive Man !'  " 

"Dar  now!  I  bet  he  fooled  her!"  she  said 
with  great  pleasure,  for  next  to  a  funeral  she 
likes  a  fooling,  and  she  is  always  excited  when 
she  forgets  and  says  "Dar  now."  "If  he  has," 
she  kept  on,  "sheV  better  do  the  nex'  best  thing 
and  marry  Mr.  Gayle.  He's  got  as  good  raisin' 
as  ary  man  I  ever  seen,  although  he's  a  little 
pore.  But  they's  some  things  I  don't  like  about 
fat  husban's — they  can't  scratch  they  own 
back!" 

I  was  glad  to  keep  her  mind  on  marrying,  for 
I  thought  I'd  get  a  chance  at  the  gizzard  too, 
but  she  watched  it  like  she  watches  her  trunk-key 
when  her  son-in-law's  around.  I  told  her  to  go 
to  the  window  and  see  what  they  were  doing  now, 
and  she  did  it,  poor  old  soul!  When  she  came 
back  the  gizzard  was  gone,  but  she  was  so 
tickled  that  she  didn't  notice  it. 
213 


THE    ANNALS   OF   ANN 

"They've  done  paired  off  and  gone  down  by 
the  big  tree  to  knock  mistletoe  out'n  the  top," 
she  told  me,  her  face  shining  with  grease  and 
happiness.  "I  knowed  'twould  be  a  match! 
Needn't  nuwer  tell  no  nigger  of  my  experience 
that  folks  is  too  smart  to  fall  in  love! 
Ever'body's  got  a  little  gram  o'  sense,  no 
matter  how  deep  it's  covered  with  book- 
learnin'." 

"Oh,  they  don't  have  to  be  smart  at  all,"  I 
told  her,  talking  very  fast  to  divert  her  mind 
from  the  gravy.  "Father  says  if  the  back  of  a 
girl's  neck  is  pretty  she  can  get  married  if  she 
hasn't  sense  enough  to  count  the  coppers  in  the 
contribution  box." 

"An'  he  tol'  the  truth,"  she  said,  stopping 
still  with  her  hands  on  her  hips  like  she  was  fix- 
ing for  a  long  sermon.  "An'  furthermore,  if 
she's  rich  she  don't  need  to  have  neither.  But 
marryin'  for  riches  is  like  puttin'  up  preserves 
— it  looks  to  be  a  heap  bigger  pile  beforehan' 
than  afterwards.  An'  many  a  man  marries  a 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

rich  girl  expectin'  a  automobile  when  he  don't 
git  nothin'  but  a  baby  buggy !" 

Mr.  Gayle  has  been  coming  over  so  early 
every  morning  since  that  first  morning  that  he 
met  Miss  Claxton,  and  staying  so  late  that  I 
haven't  had  much  time  to  write.  I've  been  too 
busy  watching.  I've  often  heard  Doctor  Gor- 
don say  that  diseases  have  a  "period  of  incuba- 
tion," but  I  believe  that  love  is  one  disease  that 
doesn't  incubate.  It  just  comes,  like  light  does 
when  you  switch  on  the  electricity.  This 
morning  Mr.  Gayle  came  so  early  that  Rufe 
went  into  the  sitting-room  and  began  to  poke 
fun  at  him,  as  usual. 

"Hello,  old  man,"  he  said,  shaking  hands  with 
him.  "I'm  surely  glad  to  see  that  it's  you. 
Thought  of  course  when  the  door-bell  rang  so 
soon  after  breakfast  that  it  was  an  enlarged 
picture  agent!" 

"No,  I'm  far  from  being  an  enlarged  any- 
thing," the  poor  man  said,  wiping  off  the  per- 
215 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

spi ration  from  his  forehead,  for  he  must  have 
walked  very  fast.  "In  fact,  I'm  feeling  rather 
'ensmalled,'  as  our  friend,  Ann,  might  say.  I 
have  never  before  so  realized  my  utter  un- 
worthiness !" 

"Bosh,"  Rufe  said,  slapping  him  on  the 
shoulder  in  a  friendly  way.  "Why,  man,  you're 
on  to  your  job  as  well  as  anybody  I  ever  saw. 
Why,  your  last  article  in  The  Journal  for  the 
Cognoscenti  made  me  give  up  every  idea  of  the 
old-fashioned  Heaven  I'd  hoped  for — a  place 
where  a  gas  bill  is  never  presented,  and  alarm 
clocks  and  society  editors  enter  not !" 

"Mr.  Clayborne  would  have  been  worth  his 
weight  in  platinum  as  court  jester  to  some  mel- 
ancholy monarch  in  the  middle  ages,"  Miss  Clax- 
ton  said,  looking  up  from  her  crochet  work 
which  mother  is  teaching  her  and  Cousin  Eunice 
to  do,  because  it  has  come  back  into  style,  to 
smile  at  Mr.  Gayle. 

"I'm  not  what  Ann  calls  *smart' !"  he  said  in 
answer  to  her,  "but  I  remember  enough  history 
216 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

to  know  that  the  other  name  for  jester  is  fool. 
I  shan't  stay  where  people  call  me  such  names !" 
So  he  got  up  and  went  out,  which  gave  Cousin 
Eunice  and  Waterloo  and  me  an  excuse  to  go 
too.  So  we  left  the  lovers  alone. 

"Well,  he's  what  I  call  a  damn  fool,"  Rufe 
said  in  a  whisper  as  soon  as  the  door  was  closed 
so  they  couldn't  hear.  "Coming  over  here  every 
few  minutes  in  the  day,  'totin'  a  long  face,'  as 
mammy  says,  and  hasn't  got  the  nerve  to  say 
boo  to  a  goose !" 

"Saying  boo  to  a  goose  wouldn't  help  his  suit 
any,"  Cousin  Eunice  said;  "besides,  well-regu- 
lated young  people  don't  get  engaged  in  three 
days !" 

"What  ill-regulated  young  people  you  and  I 
must  have  been !"  Rufe  said,  then  dodged  Water- 
loo's ball  which  she  threw  at  him,  saying  what 
a  story!  It  was  nearly  two  weeks  before  they 
got  engaged. 

"I  advocate  getting  engaged  in  two  hours 
when  people  are  as  much  in  love  as  those  two 
217 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

we've  just  left.    Gayle  hasn't  red  blood  enough 
in  him  to  stain  a  chigoe's  undershirt!" 

Hasn't  anything  happened  worth  writing 
about  until  to-day,  but  it  has  been  happening 
so  thick  ever  since  morning  that  my  backbone 
is  fairly  aching  with  thrills.  And  I'm  tired!  Oh, 
mercy !  But  I'm  going  to  stay  awake  to-night 
until  I  get  it  all  written  out  even  if  I  have  to 
souse  my  head  in  cold  water,  or  rouse  up  Water- 
loo. 

Right  after  breakfast  this  morning  Mr. 
Gayle  happened  to  see  Cousin  Eunice  go  into 
the  parlor  by  herself  to  crochet  some  extra 
hard  stitches,  and  so  he  went  in  after  her  and 
said  he  would  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with  her 
if  she  didn't  mind.  Dilsey  had  left  the  window 
up  when  she  finished  dusting,  which  I  was  very 
glad  to  see,  for  I  was  in  my  old  place  on  the 
porch.  He  told  her  he  supposed  he  was  the  con- 
foundedest  ass  on  earth,  but  she  said  oh  no,  she 
was  sure  he  wasn't  so  bad  as  that!  Then  he 
218 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

plunged  right  into  the  subject  and  said  he  was 
madly  in  love  and  didn't  know  how  to  tell  it. 
Would  she  please  help  him  out? 

"Oh,  don't  mind  that,"  she  answered  kindly. 
"All  earnest  lovers  are  awkward.  The  Byronic 
ones  are  liars !" 

He  said  he  knew  she  would  understand  and 
help  him  with  her  valued  advice! —  -  But,  just 
what  was  he  to  say  ?  And  when  was  he  to  say  it? 

She  told  him  she  thought  it  would  be  a  psycho- 
logical moment  to-night,  the  last  night  of  the 
year,  and  they  would  all  be  going  their  different 
ways  on  the  morrow.  It  would  be  very  romantic 
to  propose  then,  say  on  the  stroke  of  twelve,  or 
just  whenever  he  could  get  himself  keyed  up  to 
it.  He  said  oh,  she  was  the  kindest  woman  in 
the  world.  She  had  taken  such  a  load  off  his 
heart!  He  thought  it  would  be  a  fine  idea  to 
propose  just  on  the  stroke  of  midnight — some- 
how he  imagined  the  clock  striking  would  give 
him  courage!  Oh,  he  felt  so  much  better  for 
having  told  somebody ! 

219 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

I  felt  that  it  would  be  a  weight  off  my  heart 
if  I  could  tell  somebody  too,  and  just  then  I 
spied  Rufe  holding  Waterloo  up  to  see  the  tur- 
keys down  by  the  big  chicken  coop.  I  didn't 
waste  a  second. 

"Oh,  Rufe,  you'll  be  surprised!"  I  said,  all 
out  of  breath,  and  he  turned  around  and  looked 
thrilled.  "Mr.  Gayle  is  red-bloodier  than  you 
think!"  Then  I  told  him  all  about  it.  "Now 

aren't  you  sorry  you  called  him  a  d fool?" 

I  wasn't  really  minding  about  the  cuss  word,  for 
Rufe  isn't  the  kind  of  a  man  that  says  things 
when  he's  mad.  He's  as  apt  to  say  'damn'  when 
he's  eating  ice-cream  as  at  any  other  time. 

Rufe  was  delighted  to  hear  that  it  was  going 
to  happen  while  they  were  still  here  to  see  it; 
and  we  went  right  back  to  the  house  and  planned 
to  sit  up  with  Cousin  Eunice  and  see  them  after 
they  came  out  of  the  parlor  on  the  glad  New 
Year.  Julius  and  Marcella  were  coming  over  to 
sit  up  with  us  anyhow  to  watch  it  in,  so  it 
wouldn't  be  hard  to  do. 

220 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Well,  mother  put  enough  fruit  cake  and  what 
goes  with  it  out  on  the  dining-table  to  keep  us 
busy  as  long  as  we  could  eat,  but  along  toward 
ten  o'clock  we  got  so  sleepy  (being  just  married 
people  and  me)  that  Julius  said  let's  run  the 
clock  up  two  hours.  Marcella  said  no,  that 
would  cause  too  much  striking  at  the  same  time, 
but  she  said  if  something  didn't  happen  to  hurry 
them  up  and  put  us  out  of  our  misery  we  would 
all  be  under  the  table  in  another  five  minutes. 
We  were  all  so  sleepy  that  everything  we  said 
sounded  silly,  so  when  a  bright  idea  struck  me 
it  took  some  time  to  get  it  into  their  heads. 

"Rufe's  typewriter!"  I  said,  jumping  up  and 
down  in  my  joy,  so  it  waked  them  up  some  just 
to  look  at  me.  "The  bell  on  it  can  go  exactly 
like  a  clock  if  you  slide  the  top  thing  back- 
wards and  forwards  right  fast.  I've  done  it  a 
million  times  to  amuse  Waterloo !" 

They  said  they  knew  I'd  make  a  mess  of  it  if 
I  tried  such  a  thing,  but  I  told  them  if  they 
took  that  view  of  what  a  person  could  do  they 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

never  would  be  encouraged  to  try  to  do  things.  I 
knew  I  could  do  it!  Marcella  said  then  for 
Rufe  to  place  the  typewriter  close  up  to  the 
parlor  door,  and  they  would  all  go  out  on  the 
front  porch  to  keep  the  lovers  from  hearing 
them  laugh.  So  out  they  all  filed. 

Well,  it  was  an  exciting  moment  of  my  life 
when  I  was  sliding  that  thing  backwards  and 
forwards  and  thinking  all  sorts  of  heroic 
thoughts,  but  I  gritted  my  teeth  and  didn't  look 
up  until  I  had  got  the  twelve  strokes  struck. 
Then  I  went  out  on  the  front  porch  right  easy 
and  sat  down  by  the  others.  Julius  tucked  his 
big  coat  around  me  and  we  all  sat  there  a  little 
while,  laughing  and  shivering  and  shaking 
until  I  felt  that  I'd  never  had  such  a  good  time 
in  my  life!  Then  somebody  whispered  let's  go 
in — and  then  the  unexpected  happened. 

We  heard  a  sound  in  the  parlor  close  back  of 

us  and  the  first  thing  we  knew  there  was  Mr. 

Gayle  raising  the  window  that  opens  on  to  the 

porch,  and  he  and  Miss  Claxton  came  over  and 

222 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

looked  out  into  the  night.  They  couldn't  see  us 
if  we  sat  still,  close  up  against  the  wall ;  and  it 
seemed  that  none  of  us  could  budge  to  save  our 
lives! 

It  was  a  lovely  moonlight  night,  clear  and 
cold,  that  always  reminds  me  of  the  night  Wash- 
ington Irving  reached  Bracebridge  Hall  (I  just 
love  it) ,  and  so  he  put  his  arm  around  her,  Mr. 
Gayle  I  mean,  not  Washington  Irving,  and  his 
voice  was  so  clear  and  firm  and  happy  that  we 
all  knew  he  had  been  accepted. 

"Bid  good  morrow  to  the  New  Year,  my 
love,"  he  said  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips  a  long, 
long  time.  "There  has  been  created  for  me  this 
night  not  only  a  new  year,  but  a  new  Heaven 
and » 

"And  a  new  earth,"  she  finished  up  softly, 
and  they  closed  the  window  down. 

"I  hope  she  won't  take  her  little  hammer  and 
knock  on  her  new  earth  to  see  if  it  has  petrified 
wiggle  tails  in  it,"  Rufe  said,  after  we  had  filed 
back  into  the  house  and  moved  the  typewriter 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

away  from  the  door.  But  his  voice  was  solemn 
when  he  said  it,  and  we  all  felt  like  puppy  dogs 
for  being  out  there.  And  nobody  said  another 
word  about  staying  up  to  see  how  they  looked 
when  they  came  out  of  the  parlor. 

The  next  day  everybody  made  like  they  were 
very  much  surprised  at  the  way  it  had  turned 
out  except  Mammy  Lou.  She  looked  as  happy 
when  Miss  Claxton  told  us  the  news  as  if  she 
had  got  herself  engaged  again. 

"You  were  right  after  all,  mammy,"  Cousin 
Eunice  told  her.  "In  spite  of  all  Miss  Clax- 
ton's  scientific  knowledge  she  has  preferred  a 
man  to  a  career!" 

"An5  shows  her  good  sense,  too,"  mammy  an- 
swered, her  old  brown  face  running  over  with 
smiles,  like  molasses  in  the  sunshine.  "A  man's 
a  man,  I  can  tell  you;  and  a  career's  a  mighty 
pore  thing  to  warm  your  feet  against  on  a  cold 
night!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

APRIL  is  here!  Jean  and  April  together! 
No  wonder  I  haven't  any  sense!  "And 
the  rain  it  raineth  every  day,"  but  for  just 
a  little  while  at  a  time,  and  the  mud  smells 
so  good  afterward  that  you  don't  care.  The 
warm  air  comes  blowing  through  my  window  so 
early  every  morning  and  puts  such  sad,  happy 
thoughts  into  my  head  that  I  have  to  get  up 
and  wake  Jean.  Then  we  dress  and  go  out 
into  the  side  yard,  where  I  try  to  find  a  cale- 
canthus  in  bloom  that  is  really  sweet  enough  to 
go  in  front  of  Lord  Byron's  picture.  And  I  try 
to  make  Jean  listen  while  I  tell  her  all  my  sad, 
happy  thoughts,  that's  what  I  invited  her  down 
here  for,  but  she  hardly  ever  listens. 

"Isn't  everything  lovely?"  I  asked  her  this 
225 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

morning,  after  we  had  tiptoed  through  the 
house  and  out  to  the  side  porch.  "And  doesn't 
April  just  remind  you  of  a  right  young  girl, 
about  seventeen  years  old,  with  hair  made  out 
of  sunshine,  and  cheeks  made  of  peach-blos- 
soms ;  and  eyes  made  out  of  that  patch  of  blue 
sky  over  Mrs.  West's  big  barn?" 

That  patch  of  sky  over  Mrs.  West's  barn 
takes  up  a  heap  of  my  time  on  summer  after- 
noons when  I  he  close  to  the  windows  and  read. 
It  is  so  deep  and  far-off  looking  that  I  get  to 
dreaming  about  Italy,  and  I  call  it  the  place 
where  "Tasso's  spirit  soars  and  sings."  I 
learned  this  long  ago  out  of  the  Fifth  Reader, 
and  I  don't  know  what  else  Tasso  did  besides 
soaring  and  singing. 

But  Jean  wasn't  listening  to  me.  She  had 
reached  out  .and  gathered  a  bunch  of  snowballs 
and  was  shaking  the  night  before's  rain  off 
them. 

"Oh,  Ann,"  she  said,  "don't  they  remind  you 
of  willow  plumes?  And  don't  you  wish  we  were 
226 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

old  enough  to  wear  them  on  our  hats  instead  of 
sissy  bows?  You  can  get  engaged  in  a  minute 
if  you  have  a  willow  plume  on  your  hat !" 

This  seemed  to  remind  her  of  something,  for 
she  spoke  again  the  next  minute. 

"Say,  I've  never  told  you  about  Cassius,  have 
I?" 

I  told  her  no,  although  I  knew  a  little  about 
him  myself,  even  if  he  wasn't  in  that  easy 
Shakespeare  that  Lamb  wrote  for  kids.  And 
she  seemed  to  be  lost  in  thought,  so  I  got  lost 
too.  It  never  is  hard  for  me  to.  I  thought: 
"Mercy,  how  I  have  grown !"  When  I  first  com- 
menced keeping  this  diary  I  just  despised 
poetry,  and  never  cared  about  keeping  my  hair 
tied  out  of  my  eyes,  nor  my  hands  clean.  You 
know  that  age!  But  I  soon  got  over  that,  for 
when  you  get  a  little  bigger  being  in  love  causes 
you  to  admire  poetry  and  also  to  beautify  your- 
self. Jean  and  I  tried  very  sour  buttermilk 
(the  sourer  the  better)  to  make  our  complexion 
lovely,  with  tansy  mixed  in,  until  it  got  so  sour 
227 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

that  mother  said,  "Whew !    There  must  be  a  rat 
dead  in  the  walls !"    So  we  had  to  pour  it  out. 

In  looking  over  my  past  life  it  seems  to  me 
that  I've  been  in  love  with  somebody  or  other 
ever  since  that  night  so  long  ago,  when  Mammy 
Lou  washed  me  and  dressed  me  up  in  my  tiny 
hemstitched  clothes.  And  with  such  lovely  heroes, 
too!  When  I  was  awfully  little  I  used  to  be 
crazy  about  the  prince  that  the  mermaid  rescued 
while  Hans  Christian  Andersen  stood  on  the 
beach  and  watched  them.  Then  I  loved  Ben  Hur 
from  his  pictures  when  I  was  ten,  John  Halifax 
when  I  was  eleven,  Lord  Byron  when  I  was 
twelve — I  loved  him  then,  do  now,  and  ever  shall, 
world  without  end,  Amen !  It  is  so  much  easier  \ 
to  love  good-looking  people  than  good  ones ! 
And,  oh,  every  handsome  young  Moor,  who  ever 
dwelt  in  "the  moonlit  halls  of  the  Alhambra!" 
Washington  Irving  will  have  a  heap  to  answer 
for  in  the  making  of  me.  And  I  used  to  dream 
about  "Bonny  Prince  Charlie,"  although  Miss 
Wilburn  never  could  hammer  it  into  ray  head 
228 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

which  one  of  the  Stuarts  he  was.  And  actors! 
Well,  I  would  try  to  make  a  list  and  write  it  on 
the  fly-pages,  only  it  might  be  a  bad  example  to 
my  grandchildren ;  then,  too,  there  are  so  very 
few  fly-pages. 

But  I  started  out  to  tell  how  much  I've 
changed  since  I  began  this  book,  for  now  I  not 
only  adore  poetry,  I  write  it!  Fully  a  quart  jar 
full  I've  written  since  I  found  the  first  butter- 
cup this  spring.  An  ode  to  Venus,  an  ode  to 
Venice,  and  a  world  of  just  plain  odes.  Mammy 
Lou  washed  out  a  preserves  jar  and  put  it  on 
my  desk  for  me  to  stick  them  in.  It  saves 
trouble  for  her. 

Jean  soon  woke  up  out  of  her  brown  study 
and  commenced  telling  about  Cassius. 

"I  used  to  meet  him  on  sunshiny  mornings  go- 
ing to  school,"  she  said.  "He  was  about  nine- 
teen and  so  pale  and  thin  and  sad-looking  that 
I  named  him  'Cassius.'  He  walked  with  a 
crutch.  One  morning  when  the  wind  blew  his 
hat  off  I  saw  that  his  head  was  very  scholarly 
229 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

looking,  so  from  that  hour  I  began  thinking  of 
him  every  second  of  the  time.  That  is  one  of  the 
worst  features  about  being  in  love,  you  can't 
get  your  mind  off  of  the  person,  and  if  you  do 
it's  on  to  somebody  else.  Now,  just  last  week 
I  burnt  up  a  great  batch  of  Turkish  candy  I 
was  trying  to  make  on  account  of  a  person's 
eyes.  They  look  at  you  like  they're  kissing 
you !"  And  she  fell  again  into  a  study,  not 
a  brown  one  this  time,  just  a  sort  of  light 
tan. 

"Whose?  Cassius's?"  I  interrupted,  shaking 
her  to  bring  her  to. 

"Pshaw !  No !  I  had  almost  forgotten  about 
Cassius!  I've  never  seen  anything  on  earth  to 
equal  this  other  person's  eyes!  But,  anyway, 
going  back  to  finish  up  with  Cassius,  I  thought 
of  course,  from  his  walking  with  a  crutch,  that 
he  must  have  had  a  bad  spinal  trouble  when  he 
was  a  child  and  used  to  have  to  sit  still  and  be  a 
scholar,  instead  of  chasing  cats  and  breaking 
out  people's  window-panes  like  healthy  boys.  I 
230 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

pictured  out  how  lonely  he  must  feel  and  how  he 
must  long  for  a  companion  whose  mind  was 
equal  to  his;  and  it  certainly  made  a  changed 
girl  of  me !  I  burnt  out  gallons  and  gallons  of 
electricity  every  night  studying  deep  things  to 
discuss  with  him  when  I  should  get  to  know  him 
well." 

"How  did  you  know  what  kind  of  things  he 
admired?"  I  asked,  for  some  men  like  mathe- 
matics and  some  Dickens  and  you  can't  tell  the 
difference  by  passing  them  on  the  street. 

•"Well,  it  did  make  a  heap  of  extra  trouble 
to  me,"  she  answered,  sighing  as  tiredly  as  if 
she  had  been  trying  on  coat  suits  all  day.  "As 
I  didn't  know  which  was  his  favorite  subject  I 
had  to  study  the  encyclopedia  so  as  to  be  sure 
to  hit  it." 

"Gee  whiz !"  I  couldn't  help  saying. 

"Oh,  that  ain't  all!  I  wrote  down  a  list  of 
strange  words  to  say  to  him  so  that  he  could 
tell  at  a  glance  that  I  was  brilliant.  They 
were  terrific  words  too,  from  aortic  and  actinic 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

in  the  a's  to  genuflections  in  the  g's.  That's 
as  far  as  I  got." 

Mammy  Lou  called  us  to  breakfast  just  then, 
but  I  could  eat  only  four  soft-boiled  guinea 
eggs,  wondering  what  on  earth  Cassius  had 
said  in  reply  when  Jean  said  genuflections  to 
him. 

"Pshaw!  The  rest  isn't  worth  telling,"  she 
said  with  a  weary  look,  as  I  pulled  her  down  on 
the  steps  right  after  breakfast  and  begged  her 
to  go  on  about  Cassius.  "It  ended  with  a  dis- 
appointment— like  ^everything  else  that  has  a 
man  connected  with  it!  You're  a  lucky  girl  to 
'be  in  love  with  Lord  Byron  so  long,  for  dead 
men  break  no  hearts!" 

"Well,  tell  it!"  I  begged. 

"Oh,  it's  too  disgusting  "for  words,  and  was  a 
real  blow  to  a  person  of  my  nature !  The  idiot 
didn't  have  spinal  trouble  at  all,  I  learned  it 
from  a  lady  who  knew  his  mother.  He  had  only 
sprained  his  knee,  just  a  plain,  every-day  knee, 
with  playing  basket-ball  at  school,  which  was 
232 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

all  the  good  school  ever  did  him,  the  lady 
said.  My  life  has  certainly  been  full  of  dis- 
illusions !" 

"But,  you've  learned  what  genuflections 
means,"  I  reminded  her,  for  I  think  people 
ought  to  be  thankful  for  everything  they  learn 
by  experience,  whether  it's  from  an  automobile 
or  an  auction  house. 

Pretty  soon  after  this  we  heard  the  sound  of 
horses'  feet  (when  I  saw  who  it  was  riding  them 
I  just  couldn't  say  hoofs),  so  Jean  and  I  ran 
to  the  front  door.  We  were  very  glad  when 
we  saw  who  it  was,  for  if  it  hadn't  been  for  this 
couple  we  should  have  had  little  to  talk  about 
down  here  in  the  country  except  telling  each 
other  our  dreams  and  what's  good  to  take  off 
freckles. 

It  was  Miss  Irene  Campbell  riding  past  our 
house,  with  Mr.  Gerald  Fairfax,  her  twin  flame, 
in  swell  tan  leggins  that  come  to  his  knee.  Miss 
Irene  comes  down  here  sometimes  to  spend  the 
summer  with  her  grandmother,  Mrs.  West.  She 
233 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

used  to  know  Mr.  Fairfax  so  well  when  they 
were  little  that  there  were  always  several  planks 
off  of  the  fence  so  they  could  visit  together 
without  going  all  the  way  around  to  the  gate. 
But  he  grew  up  and  went  one  direction  and  she 
went  another  and  they  didn't  see  each  other 
again  until  late  last  summer ;  but  they  saw  each 
other  then,  oh,  so  often !  And  they  found  that 
they  must  be  twin  flames  from  the  way  their 
"temperaments  accord." 

I  had  heard  Doctor  Gordon  say  that  I  was  of 
a  nervous  temperament  and  was  wondering 
whether  or  not  this  was  the  kind  you  could  have 
a  twin  flame  with ;  but  father  says  the  tempera- 
ment that  Mr.  Fairfax  and  Miss  Irene  have  is 
what  makes  affinities  throw  skillets  at  each  other 
after  they've  been  married  two  weeks.  But 
these  two  are  not  going  to  marry,  for  their 
friendship  is  of  the  spirit.  They  talk  about 
incarnations  and  "Karma,"  which  sounds  like 
the  name  of  a  salve  to  me.  Sometimes  he  seems 
to  like  her  looks  as  much  as  her  soul,  and  says 
234 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

she's  a  typical  maid  of  Andalusia.  I  learned 
about  Andalusia  out  of  Washington  Irving  too, 
so  I  know  he  thinks  she's  pretty.  She  has 
some  splendid  traits  of  character,  mother  says, 
which  means  I  reckon  that  she  doesn't  fix  her 
hair  idiotically  just  because  other  women  do, 
nor  use  enough  violet  sachet  to  out-smell  an 
automobile. 

Miss  Irene  is  very  sad,  both  on  account  of 
her  liver  and  her  lover.  Mrs.  West  says  the 
books  she  reads  are  enough  to  give  anybody 
liver  complaint,  but  she  has  had  a  disappoint- 
ment lately  that  is  enough  to  give  her  appen- 
dicitis. 

His  name  is  Doctor  Bynum  and  he's  as  hand- 
some as  Apollo  and  a  bacteriologist,  which  is 
worse  than  a  prohibitionist,  for  while  the  last- 
named  won't  let  you  drink  whisky  in  peace,  the 
other  won't  let  you  drink  water  in  peace.  Still, 
Miss  Irene  says  he  has  the  most  honest  brown 
eyes  and  the  warmest,  most  comfortable-feeling 
hands  she  ever  saw  and  she  was  beginning  to 
235 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

love  him  in  spite  of  their  souls  being  on  differ- 
ent planes. 

"He  doesn't  care  for  one  line  in  literature," 
she  told  mother,  who  is  very  fond  of  her  and 
would  like  to  see  her  settled  in  life.  "I've  tried 
him  on  everything  from  Marcus  Aurelius  to 
Gray's  Elegy.  When  I  got  to  this  last  he 
said,  'Good  Lord !  Eliminate  it !  It's  my  business 
to  keep  folks  out  of  the  churchyard  instead  of 
droning  ditties  after  they're  in  it!'  Now,  do 
you  call  that  anything  short  of  savage?" 

"I  call  it  sensible,"  mother  told  her. 

"But  I  hate  sensible  people — with  no  non- 
sense !" 

"Oh,  nonsense  is  necessary  to  the  digestion," 
mother  answered  quickly,  "we  all  know  that. 
But  a  littk  sense,  now  and  then,  it  takes  to  pay 
the  market  men." 

"Which,  being  interpreted,  means  that  you're 
like  grandmother.  You  hope  I'll  marry  Doctor 
Bynum,  but  you  greatly  fear  that  it  will  be 
Gerald  Fairfax!" 

236 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

"All  I  have  to  say  is  that  'The  Raven'  is  not 
a  good  fowl  to  roast  for  dinner,"  mother  an- 
swered, with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye,  for  Jean  had 
come  home  from  Mrs.  West's  the  day  before 
and  said  that  Mr.  Fairfax  had  been  reading 
The  Raven  so  real  you  were  afraid  it  would  fly 
down  and  peck  your  eyes  out. 

"Oh,  Gerald  and  I  don't  believe  in  flesh 
foods!"  she  said  loftily,  then  added  quickly, 
"but  I'm  not  going  to  marry  him.  Neither  am  I 
going  to  marry  a  man  who  calls  my  reincarna- 
tion theory  'bug-house  talk.'  I  came  away  down 
here  the  very  day  after  he  said  that,  without 
telling  him  good-by  or  anything.  And  I'm  just 
disappointed  to  death  that  he  has  not  followed 
me  long  ago.  I  thought  sure  he  would !" 

"You  don't  deserve  that  he  should  ever  think 
of  you  again,"  mother  told  her,  looking  as 
severe  as  she  does  when  she  tells  me  I'll  never 
get  married  on  earth  unless  I  learn  to  be  more 

tidy. 

"I  confess  the  'conflicting  doubts  and  opin- 

237 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

ions'  do  give  me  indigestion.  Doctor  Bynum 
lias  the  most  good-looking  face  I  ever  saw.  And 
he's  just  lovely  when  he  isn't  perfectly  hateful, 
and — mercy  me!  I  think  I'll  get  Mammy  Lou 
to  give  me  a  spoonful  of  soda  in  a  glass  of  warm 
water.  I  have  an  awful  heaviness  around  my 
heart !" 

This  talk  took  place  two  or  three  days  ago 
and  we  hadn't  seen  her  again  until  this  morn- 
ing when  she  came  riding  past  our  house.  They 
waved  at  us  as  they  got  even  with  our  gate  and 
turned  off  the  main  road  to  the  little  path  that 
leads  to  the  prettiest  part  of  the  woods. 

"Jean,  what  would  you  do  if  Mr.  Fairfax 
looked  at  you  the  way  he  looks  at  her?"  I  asked, 
as  we  sat  down  and  fixed  ourselves  to  watch  them 
out  of  sight. 

"I'd  marry  him  quicker  than  you  could  hic- 
cough!" she  answered,  gazing  after  them  with 
a  yearning  look.  "What  would  you  do?" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  told  her,  and  I  don't.  "Some 
people  seem  to  be  happy  even  after  they're  mar- 
238 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

ried,  but  I  think  it  would  be  nice  to  be  like  Dante 
and  Beatrice,  with  no  gas  bills  nor  in-laws  to 
bother  you." 

"Shoo !  Well,  I  bet  she  marries  him  in  spite 
of  all  that  talk  about  the  spirit.  A  spirit  is 
all  right  to  marry  if  he  smells  like  good  cigars 
and  is  on  the  spot!" 

"Yes,  I'm  afraid  Doctor  Bynum  has  lost  his 
chance;  for  a  girl  will  love  the  nearest  man — 
when  the  lilies-of-the-valley  are  in  bloom." 

"But  I  heard  Mrs.  West  say  the  other  day 
that  Mr.  Fairfax  would  make  a  mighty  bad  hus- 
band, in  spite  of  the  good  looks  and  deep 
voice.  He'd  always  forget  when  the  oatmeal 
was  out." 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "I  heard  her  tell  mother 
the  other  day  that  she  would  leave  all  she  had  to 
somebody  else  if  she  did  marry  him,  for  she  be- 
lieved in  every  married  couple  there  ought  to 
be  at  least  one  that  had  sense  enough  to  keep 
the  fences  mended  up." 

"Why,  that  old  lady's  mind  is  as  narrow  as  a 
239 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

ready-made  nightgown,"  Jean  exclaimed  in  sur- 
prise. "Why,  affinities  marry  in  every  page 
of  the  pink  Sunday  papers !" 

"But  really  who  does  make  the  living?"  I 
asked,  for  I  had  heard  mother  say  that  that 
kind  of  folks  never  worked. 

"The  lawyer  that  divo'ces  'em  makes  the 
livin',"  Mammy  Lou  said  then,  popping  her 
black  head  out  through  mother's  white  cur- 
tains. "An'  them  two,  if  they  marries,  will 
fu'nish  him  with  sev'al  square  meals !  I've 
knowed  'em  both  sence  they  secon'  summer," 
she  said,  a  brown  finger  pointing  in  the  direc- 
tion they  had  gone,  and  a  smile  coming  over  her 
face,  for  second  summers  are  to  old  women  what 
war  times  are  to  old  men,  only  more  so.  "I 
said  it  then  and  I  say  it  now,  he's  too  pore! 
Across  the  chist!  He  thinks  too  much,  which 
ain't  no  'count.  It  leads  to  devilment!  Folks 
ain't  got  no  business  thinkin' — they  ought  to 
go  to  sleep  when  they're  through  work!" 

"But  his  sympathy "  I  started,  for  that's 

240 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

what  Miss  Irene  is  always  talking  about,  but 
mammy  interrupted  me. 

"Sympathy'  nothin' !  How  much  sympathy 
do  you  reckon  he'd  have  on  a  f reezin'  mornin' 
with  wet  kin'lin'  and  the  stovepipe  done  fell 
down?  She  better  look  out  for  a  easy-goin' 
man  that  ain't  carin'  'bout  nothin'  'cept  how  to 
keep  the  barn  full  o'  corn  and  good  shoes  for 
seven  or  eight  chil'en  !" 

Mammy  Lou  mostly  knows  what's  she  talk- 
ing about,  but  somehow  I  hate  to  think  of  Miss 
Irene  with  seven  children.  She  reminds  me  so 
much  of  a  flower.  When  I  stop  to  think  of  it, 
all  the  girls  I've  written  about  remind  me  of 
flowers.  Cousin  Eunice  is  like  a  lovely  iris,  and 
Ann  Lisbeth  is  like  a  Marechal  Niel  rose.  Miss 
Cis  Reeves  used  to  look  like  a  bright,  happy 
little  pansy,  but  that  was  before  the  twins  were 
born.  Now  her  collar  to  her  shirtwaist  always 
hikes  up  in  the  back  and  shows  the  skin  under- 
neath and  her  hat  (whenever  she  gets  a  chance 
to  put  on  a  hat)  is  over  one  ear,  and  lots  of 


times  she  looks  like  she  wishes  nobody  in  her 
family  ever  had  been  born,  especially  the  twin 
that  cries  the  loudest. 

When  I  told  Miss  Irene  that  she  reminded  me 
of  a  flower,  she  said  well,  it  must  be  the  jasmine 
flower,  or  something  else  like  a  funeral,  for  she 
was  as  desolate  as  everybody  was  in  Ben  Bolt. 
(I  always  wondered  why  they  didn't  bury 
"Sweet  Alice"  with  the  rest  of  her  family  in- 
stead of  in  a  corner  obscure  and  alone.)  I 
told  her  then  just  to  pacify  her  that  maybe  she 
would  feel  better  after  she  got  married  one  way 
or  another  and  stopped  reading  books  named 
The  Call  of all  sorts  of  things,  and  think- 
ing that  she  had  to  answer  all  the  calls.  Cousin 
Eunice  says  her  only  troubles  in  matrimony 
were  stomach  and  eye  teeth  and  frozen  water- 
pipes.  She  never  gets  disgusted  with  life  ex- 
cept on  nights  when  Rufe  goes  to  the  lodge  to 
see  the  third  degree  administered.  She  can 
even  write  a  few  articles  now  if  she  gives  Water- 
loo a  pan  of  water  and  a  wash-rag  to  play  with, 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

but  she  says  many  of  her  brightest  thoughts 
never  were  fountain-penned  because  he  hap- 
pened to  squall  in  the  midst  of  them. 

For  the  last  few  days  Mr.  Fairfax  has  been 
riding  around  the  country  looking  for  a  little 
cabin  where  he  can  be  by  himself  and  fish  and 
read  Schopenhauer.  I  imagine  from  what  they've 
read  before  me  that  he  must  be  the  man  who 
wrote  the  post-cards  you  send  to  newly  engaged 
couples  saying,  "Cheer  up!  The  worst  is  yet 
to  come!" 

Mr.  Fairfax  says  the  blue  smoke  will  curl  up 
from  his  cabin  chimney  at  sunset  and  form  a 
"symphony  in  color"  against  the  green  tree- 
tops;  and  he  can  lead  the  "untrammeled  life." 
He  is  begging  Miss  Irene  to  go  and  lead  it  with 
him,  I'm  sure ;  and  she's  half  a  mind  to  do  it,  but 
can't  bear  the  thoughts  of  it  when  she  remem- 
bers Doctor  Bynum's  eyes  and  hands.  Alto- 
gether the  poor  girl  looks  as  uncertain  as  if 
she  was  walking  on  a  pavement  covered  with 
banana  peelings. 

243 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

I  think  the  blue-smoke-cabin  idea  is  very  ro- 
mantic, but  when  I  mentioned  it  to  Mammy  Lou 
she  got  mad  and  jerked  the  skillet  off  the  stove 
so  suddenly  that  the  grease  popped  out  and 
burnt  her  finger. 

"Blue  smoke!  Blue  blazes!'  she  said,  wal- 
loping her  dish-rag  around  and  around  in  it. 
"I  hope  that  pretty  critter  ain't  goin'  to  be 
took  in  by  no  such  talk  as  that!  Blue  smoke 
curlin' !  Well,  she'll  be  the  one  to  make  the  fire 
that  curls  it!" 

It's  a  good  thing  that  father  gave  me  a  foun- 
tain pen  on  my  last  birthday,  for  I  should  hate 
to  write  what  happened  last  night  with  a  dull 
pencil. 

Mrs.  West  had  invited  Jean  and  me  to  spend 
the  night  at  her  house,  for  Miss  Irene  was  feel- 
ing worse  and  worse  and  needed  something  light 
to  cheer  her  up.  Well,  it  was  just  long  enough 
after  supper  for  us  to  be  wishing  that  we  hadn't 
eaten  so  many  strawberries  when  Mr.  Fairfax 
2*4 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

came  up  the  walk  looking  as  grand  and  gloomy 
as  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  right  after  he  had  written 
&  poem  to  his  mother-in-law.  He  said  let's  take 
a  walk  in  the  moonlight  for  the  air  was  madding. 
I  always  thought  before  it  was  maddening,  and 
should  be  applied  only  to  nuisances,  like  your 
next-door  neighbor's  children,  or  the  piano  in 
the  flat  above  you ;  but  I  saw  from  the  diction- 
ary and  the  way  he  acted  later  on  that  he  was 
right,  both  about  the  word  and  the  way  he  ap- 
plied it. 

Not  far  down  the  road  from  Mrs.  West's 
front  gate  is  a  very  old-timey  school-house,  so 
dilapidated  that  Jean  says  she  knows  it's  the  one 
where  the  little  girl  said  to  the  little  boy,  forty 
years  ago : 

"I'm  sorry  that  I  spelt  the  word, 

I  hate  to  go  above  you ; 
Because,"  the  brown  eyes  lower  fell ; 

"Because,  you  see,  I  love  you !" 

Jean  didn't  mean  a  bit  of  harm  when  she 
245 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

quoted  it,  but  the  sound  of  that  last  line  made 
them  look  as  shivery  as  if  they  had  malaria.  We 
soon  found  a  nice  place  and  sat  down  on  a  log 
that  looked  less  like  snakes  than  the  others,  and 
when  we  saw  that  there  wasn't  quite  room 
enough  for  us  all  Jean  and  I  had  the  politeness 
to  go  away  out  of  hearing  and  find  another  log, 
over  closer  to  the  road.  Even  then  we  could 
hear,  for  the  night  was  so  still  and  we  were  so 
busy  with  our  thoughts. 

I  began  thinking:  What  if  /  should  have 
such  a  hard  time  to  find  a  lover  that  is  sympa- 
thetic and  systematic  at  the  same  time?  Sup- 
pose Sir  Reginald  de  Beverley  isn't  sympathetic 
about  Lord  Byron !  Suppose  he  likes  his  par- 
liamentary speeches  better  than  his  poetry,  like 
one  husband  of  a  lady  that  I  know  does ! 

But  my  mind  was  diverted  just  then  by  hear- 
ing words  coming  from  the  direction  of  Miss 
Irene  and  Mr.  Fairfax  so  much  like  the  little 
girl  said  to  the  little  boy  forty  years  ago  that 
I  was  astonished.  I  had  been  told  that  a  girl 
246 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

could  always  keep  a  man  from  proposing  when 
she  wanted  to!  But  he  was  saying  that  she 
should  come  with  him  and  lead  the  untrammeled 
life,  and  she  was  looking  pleased  and  frightened 
and  was  telling  him  to  hush,  but  was  letting  him 
go  on ;  and  they  were  both  standing  up  and  hold- 
ing hands  in  the  moonlight. 

"I'm  not  at  all  sure  it's  the  untrammeled  life 
I'm  looking  for,"  she  said  in  little  catchy 
breaths ;  "but  I'm  so  wretched !  And  you're  the 
only  one  who  cares !  I  suppose  I  may  as  well — 
oh,  I  wish  I  had  somebody  here  to  keep  me  from 
acting  an  idiot !" 

Now,  if  Shakespeare  or  "The  Duchess"  had 
written  this  story  they  would  have  pretended 
that  Doctor  Bynum  came  around  the  curve  in 
the  road  at  that  very  minute  and  taking  off 
his  hat  said :  "Nay,  you  shall  be  my  wife !" 

But  it  was  only  Mrs.  West  coming  down  the 

road,  carrying  a  heavy  crocheted  shawl  to  keep 

Miss  Irene  from  catching  her  death  of  cold! 

But  listen !  The  minute  we  got  back  to  the  house 

247 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

the  telephone  bell  rang  and  it  was  a  long-dis- 
tance call  for  Miss  Irene.  She  knew  in  a  second 
from  the  city  it  was  from  that  Doctor  Bynum 
was  at  the  other  end  of  the  line.  She  looked  at 
that  telephone  like  a  person  in  the  fourth  story 
of  a  house  afire  looks  at  the  hook-and-ladder 
man. 

Mr.  Fairfax  said  well,  he  must  be  going ;  and 
we  all  got  out  on  the  porch  while  she  and  Doctor 
Bynum  made  up  their  quarrel  at  the  rate  of  two 
dollars  for  the  first  three  minutes  and  seventy- 
five  cents  a  minute  extra.  (I  know  because 
father  sometimes  talks  to  that  city  about  cot- 
ton.) And  he's  coming  down  Sunday.  And 
Jean  and  I  are  holding  our  breath. 

We're  having  the  very  last  fire  of  the  season 
to-night!  A  big,  booming,  beautiful  one  that 
makes  you  think  winter  wasn't  such  a  bad  time 
after  all!  A  cold  spell  has  come,  and  oh,  it  is 
so  cold!  It  makes  you  wonder  how  it  had  the 
heart  to  come  now  and  cause  the  flowers  to  feel 
248 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

so  out  of  place.  But  it  has  also  caused  us  to 
have  another  fire  and  I  love  a  fire.  I  even  like 
to  make  them,  and  lots  of  times  I  tell  Dilsey  to 
let  me  build  the  fire  in  my  room  myself.  I  sit 
down  on  the  hearth  and  sit  and  sit,  building 
that  fire.  Then  I  get  to  looking  into  it  and 
thinking.  Thinking  is  a  mighty  bad  habit,  like 
Mammy  Lou  says. 

I  can't  do  this  any  more  though — for  to-night 
we're  having  the  last  fire  of  the  season.  To- 
morrow spring  cleaning  will  be  gone  through 
with  and  the  chimneys  all  newspapered  up.  No 
matter  how  cold  it  gets  after  that  you  can't  ex- 
pect to  have  a  fire  after  you've  sprung  cleaned! 
I  never  am  going  to  spring  clean  at  my  house. 
The  dust  and  soapsuds  are  not  the  worst  part  of 
house  cleaning,  though  they  are  bad  enough, 
goodness  knows!  What  I  hate  worst  to  see  is 
the  battered  old  bureaus  and  shabby  old  quilts 
that  you've  kept  a  secret  from  the  public  for 
years  pulled  out  from  their  corners  by  the  hair 
of  their  heads  and  knocked  around  in  the  back 
249 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

yard  without  any  pity  for  their  poor  old  bones ! 
I  never  see  a  moving  van  going  through  the  city 
streets  loaded  with  pitiful  old  furniture  with- 
out thinking  "That  used  to  be  somebody's  Lares 
and  Penates !" 

By-the-way,  Mammy  Lou  is  crazy  for  Dovie 
to  have  some  more  twins  so  she  can  name  them 
"Scylla  and  Chrybdis."  She  hasn't  much  hopes 
though,  for  she  says  lightning  doesn't  strike 
twice  in  the  same  place.  Father  says  it  wouldn't 
be  lightning,  it  would  be  thunder  to  have  two 
more  little  pickaninnies  always  standing  around 
under  his  feet  and  have  to  explain  to  everybody 
that  came  along  how  they  got  their  curious 
names. 

Mammy  Lou  heard  Miss  Irene  say  "Scylla 
and  Chrybdis;'*  Miss  Irene  doesn't  say  it  any 
more  though.  Doctor  Bynum  didn't  wait  for 
the  train  to  bring  him  down  here  that  Sunday, 
but  whizzed  through  the  country  in  his  automo- 
bile Saturday  night.  Then  he  "venied,  vidied, 
vicied"  in  such  a  hurry  that  everybody  in  town 
250 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

knew  it  before  nap  time  Sunday  afternoon.  Mr. 
Fairfax  has  gone  away  on  a  long  trip.  Jean 
said  if  he  had  had  any  sense  he  would  have  seen 
that  Miss  Irene  Campbell  wasn't  the  only  girl 
in  the  world,  but  he  didn't  see  it  and  he's  gone. 

Next  week  Jean  is  going  home  and  when  I 
think  of  how  lonesome  I'll  be  something  nearly 
pops  inside  of  me.  They  have  been  writing 
and  writing  for  me  to  go  home  with  Jean  and 
stay  until  Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice  and  Water- 
loo get  ready  to  come  down  this  summer,  but 
mother  says  I  may  not  go  unless  Jean  and  I 
both  promise  to  reform.  We're  not  to  eat  any 
more  stuffed  olives  nor  write  any  more  poetry— 
and,  think  of  it!  I'm  to  stop  writing  in  my 
diary!  Mother  says  I'll  never  have  any  prac- 
tical sense  if  I  don't  begin  now  to  learn  things. 
I  tell  her,  "Am  I  to  blame  if  I  love  a  fountain 
pen  better  than  a  darning  needle?"  The  Lord 
made  me  so.  And  I  hate  sewing.  It's  as  hard 
for  roe  to  sew  as  it  is  to  keep  from  writing. 

Yet  if  I  go  home  with  Jean  I  must  quit  writ- 
251 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

ing.  Must  give  up  my  diary.  Must  not  write 
one  line  of  poetry,  no  matter  how  much  my  head 
is  buzzing  with  it !  Why,  if  poets  couldn't  write 
their  poetry  they'd  burst  a  blood  vessel!  I 
can't  even  take  you  with  me  to  Jean's  house  and 
read  over  what  I  have  written  in  happier  days, 
you  poor  little  forsaken  diary ! 


£53 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IT   seems  to  me  that  the  writing  habit  is 
kinder  like  poison  oak;  it's  sure  to  break 
out  on  you  in  the  spring,  and  you  can  never 
get  it  entirely  out  of  your  system. 

I've  tried  my  best  to  keep  from  writing,  and 
when  you  have  done  your  best  and  failed,  why 
I  don't  believe  even  Robert  Bruce's  spider  could 
have  done  any  more. 

I  promised  mother  I  would  stop  writing  in 
my  diary  and  I  have — for  such  a  long  time  that 
every  one  of  the  hems  in  my  dresses  has  had 
to  be  let  out  since  I  wrote  last.  But  now  I 
just  must  break  my  promise,  and  I  reckon  if 
you  are  going  to  break  a  promise  at  all  you 
might  as  well  break  it  all  to  pieces.  So  I'll  just 
dive  in  and  tell  all  that  happened  since  I  wrote 
last. 

253 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

You  remember  that  fluffy-skirted  widow  that 
I  told  you  about  being  down  here,  my  diary,  and 
I  sharpened  seventeen  pencils  for — a  long  time 
ago?  Well,  she  said  that  she  believed  every 
minute  of  this  life  was  made  for  enjoyment.  She 
told  it  to  a  young  man  that  told  it  to  father  that 
told  it  to  mother  and  I  happened  to  hear.  She 
said  you  ought  to  do  the  things  you  enjoy  most, 
as  long  as  they  didn't  bother  anybody  else,  and 
if  you  did  things  you  had  to  repent  of  after- 
ward, why,  even  then,  you  ought  to  cut  out  your 
sackcloth  by  a  becoming  pattern ! 

Everybody  in  town  heard  that  she  said  it,  and 
Brother  Sheffield  said  it  was  a  heathenish  thing 
to  say!  He  preached  his  Jezebel  sermon  the 
very  next  Sunday,  although  it  wasn't  due  until 
nearer  Easter  bonnet  time.  Maybe  he  wasn't 
to  blame  so  much,  though,  for  the  presiding 
«lder  was  due  that  Sunday  and  found  out  at  the 
last  minute  he  couldn't  get  there  in  time  for  the 
morning  service;  so  Brother  Sheffield  had  to 
preach  the  first  sermon  he  could  get  his  hands 
254. 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

on,  I  reckon.  The  presiding  elder  (I  "wonder  if 
you  ought  to  begin  him  with  a  capital  letter?  I 
never  wrote  "presiding  elder"  before  in  my  life 
and  maybe  never  will  again,  so  it's  no  use  get- 
ting up  to  go  and  look  for  it  in  the  dictionary) 
well,  he  got  in  late  that  afternoon  and  spent 
the  night  at  our  house  where  he  kept  the  supper 
table  in  a  roar  telling  funny  tales  about  the 
ignorance  and  tacky  ways  of  the  country  breth- 
ren he  had  stayed  with  the  night  before.  He 
was  an  awfully  popular  presiding  elder  with  his 
members. 

But  what  I  started  out  to  say  when  I  com- 
menced writing  to-night  was  that  surely 
mother  wouldn't  be  so  cruel  as  not  to  want  my 
grandchildren  to  know  a  few  little  last  things 
about  all  the  friends  I've  written  of  in  here,  and 
also  a  few  little  last  things  about  me.  I  al- 
ways like  to  read  a  book  that  winds  up  that 
way.  For  instance,  you  will  enjoy  hearing  that 
Miss  Irene  is  spending  every  minute  of  her  time 
just  about  now  running  baby  blue  ribbon  in  her 
255 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

underclothes.  And  Miss  Merle  has  long  ago 
quit  running  it  in  hers ! 

Miss  Irene  has  stopped  being  a  "pseudo-Foe 
in  petticoats,"  as  father  one  time  called  her, 
but  not  to  her  face.  Doctor  Bynum  told  her 
that  he  thought  one  bright  magazine  story  that 
would  make  a  "T.  B."  patient  sit  up  in  bed  and 
laugh  was  worth  all  the  graveyard  gloom  that 
Poe.  ever  wrote. 

And  before  I  get  clear  away  from  the  subject 
of  Miss  Merle  I  must  tell  you  that  Mr.  St.  John 
is  still  the  most  bashful,  though  married,  man  I 
ever  heard  of.  I  never  shall  forget  the  time  he 
wouldn't  let  us  see  his  undershirt — when  it  was 
hanging  in  an  up-stairs  window,  too.  But  Jean 
wrote  me  not  long  ago  that  when  the  census  man 
came  around  to  see  how  many  folks  lived  there 
and  how  many  times  each  one  had  been  married 
and  if  they  kept  a  cow,  etc.,  Mr.  St.  John  hap- 
pened to  be  the  one  to  go  to  the  door  and  answer 
the  man's  questions.  Now,  it  does  seem  that  if 
he  and  Miss  Merle  have  been  married  long 
256 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

enough  for  her  to  leave  off  the  ribbon  he  might 
leave  off  the  blushes ;  but  they  were  all  standing 
around  looking  at  him,  which  of  course  made  it 
worse.  So  when  the  census  man  said,  "How 
many  children  is  your  wife  the  mother  of?"  in- 
stead of  speaking  out  boldly,  "None !"  Jean  said 
his  face  turned  every  color  in  the  curriculum 
and  he  stammered,  "Not  any — that  7  know  of !" 
And  then  he  looked  around  at  them  as  if  to  see 
whether  or  not  they  knew  of  any  lying  around 
loose  about  the  house. 

I  haven't  seen  Jean  since  she  was  down  here, 
but  we  write  eighteen  pages  a  week.  I  didn't 
get  to  go  on  my  visit  to  her  house  as  I  expected, 
for  we  went  to  Florida  instead.  We  all  went, 
that  is,  us  three,  and  Waterloo  and  his  family 
besides  Ann  Lisbeth  and  Doctor  Gordon. 

Doctor  Gordon  was  the  one  that  started  it. 
He  caught  pneumonia  one  dreary  day  in  the 
early  spring  when  he  was  already  sick  in  bed, 
but  got  up  and  went  out  to  the  hospital  to  oper- 
ate for  appendicitis.  Ann  Lisbeth  almost  went 
257 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

into  catalepsy,  trying  to  keep  him  from  going, 
but  it  was  a  very  expensive  appendix,  he  said, 
so  he  got  up  and  went  out  and  bottled  it.  The 
changing  from  his  warm  room  to  the  cold  air 
gave  him  pneumonia,  although  the  doctors  say 
it  is  caused  by  a  germ.  I'll  never  believe  this, 
not  even  if  I  marry  one! 

Well,  he  finally  got  over  his  spell  by  "lysis" 
instead  of  "crisis,"  but  I  hope  this  will  never 
come  to  Mammy  Lou's  ears,  or  she  will  fairly 
long  for  more  twins  in  the  Dovie  family. 

When  Doctor  Gordon  got  able  to  be  out  a 
little  all  the  other  doctors  told  him  that  he  had 
better  go  to  a  warm  climate  for  a  month  or  two, 
for  it  was  still  so  cold,  so  he  and  Ann  Lisbeth 
persuaded  Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice  to  go  too, 
and  they  all  wrote  for  us  to  hurry  up  and  get 
ready  so  we  could  go  with  them. 

Mother  said  she'd  just  love  to  go,  but  she 

didn't  see  how  we  possibly  could,  for  none  of  us 

had  any  clothes  and  she  had  always  heard  that 

Florida   was   fairly   alive   with   rich   Yankees! 

258 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

Mammy  Lou  spoke  up  then  and  said,  well,  she 
was  sure  Ann  looked  exactly  like  a  rich  Yankee, 
and  she  was  the  only  one  that  folks  was  going 
to  look  at  anyhow!  So  mother  took  heart  and 
we  went. 

Father  had  to  have  a  new  overcoat,  for  the 
weather  has  been  colder  this  spring  than  ever 
the  oldest  inhabitant  can  tell  about,  and  as  they 
wrote  us  to  get  ready  in  such  a  hurry,  on  ac- 
count of  poor  Doctor  Gordon's  cough,  he  didn't 
have  time  to  have  one  made  at  his  regular  place, 
so  he  bought  one  ready-made,  a  light  tan  one, 
the  poor  dear!  And  it  had  two  long  "heimer" 
names  from  Chicago  printed  on  the  label  at  the 
collar. 

We  got  ready  in  such  a  rush  that  none  of  us 
had  time  to  rip  this  label  out,  though  I  lived  to 
regret  it  many  a  time !  It  was  too  hot  to  wear 
it  when  we  got  down  there,  but  father  had  got 
scared  up  about  catching  pneumonia,  so  he  in- 
sisted on  carrying  it  around  on  his  arm  all  the 
time,  inside  out;  and  there  was  not  one  million- 
259 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

aire,  not  one  tennis  champion,  nor  famous 
authoress  we  met,  but  what  I  saw  the  eyes  of 
fixed,  at  one  time  or  another,  on  those  "heimer" 
names ! 

That's  one  delightful  thing  about  Florida — 
you  get  to  see  so  many  people  that  you  never 
would  see  at  home.  And  everybody  mixes  like 
candidates !  For  instance,  you  may  have  a  mos- 
quito on  you  one  minute  that  you  will  see  on  a 
Russian  anarchist  the  next.  The  mosquitoes 
down  there  are  so  big  that  you  can  easily  recog- 
nize their  features.  And  apt  as  not  you'll  go  in 
bathing  every  day  with  a  person  so  famous 
when  he's  at  home  that  he  is  never  invited  to 
dine  with  anybody  that  hasn't  got  monogram 
china  and  pate  de  foie  gras. 

I've  noticed  that  the  things  people  tell  about 
after  they  come  home  from  a  trip  depend  a  good 
deal  on  the  disposition  they  carry  with  them  on 
it.  It's  the  way  with  Florida.  If  you're  an  opti- 
mist you'll  come  back  and  tell  about  the  palms, 
roses  and  sunsets.  If  you're  a  pessimist  you'll 
260 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

mention  snakes,  hotel  bills  and  buzzards.  The 
honest  truth  is  there's  quite  enough  of  them  all 
to  go  around. 

You're  impressed  with  the  country  from  the 
first  morning  that  you  get  into  it  and  raise  up 
(half  way)  in  your  berth  and  look  out  the  car 
window.  At  first  there  seems  to  be  a  mighty 
lot  of  just  flat  scenery,  with  tall  trees  that  have 
all  their  branches  at  the  tiptop.  These  trees 
remind  you  of  pictures  of  the  Holy  Land  that 
you  used  to  see  in  the  big  Bible  your  mother 
and  father  would  give  you  on  Sunday  after- 
noons to  keep  you  quiet  while  they  could  take 
a  nap. 

You  begin  to  think  that  what  you're  seeing  is 
too  beautiful  to  be  true,  though,  from  the  first 
minute  you  look  out  on  a  blue  bay  that  is  deep 
green  in  places,  and  has  purple  streaks  in  it. 
But  when  you  row  over  to  an  island  all  covered 
with  palms  and  find  a  strip  of  beach  that  has 
bushels  and  bushels  of  tiny  shells,  that  the  mer- 
maids used  to  make  necklaces  out  of — why, 
261 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

nothing  on  earth  but  your  feet  hurting  so  bad 
makes  yt>u  believe  it  is  not  a  dream ! 

Florida  has  all  the  things  in  it  that  you  see 
when  you  shut  your  eyes  and  smell  a  jasmine 
flower ! 

The  climate  is  fine  for  the  lungs,  but  very 
bad  on  the  alimenary  canal  and  curling-iron 
hair! 

We  stopped  at  all  the  points  of  interest  as 
we  went  on  down.  A  point  of  interest  is  a  place  ' 
that  the  post-cards  tell  lies  about.  Still  I  do 
think  Florida  cards  come  nearer  telling  the 
truth  than  those  of  most  places,  for  the  country 
is  very  nearly  as  many  colors  as  they  make  it 
out  to  be. 

Cousin  Eunice  said  she  thought  sending  post- 
cards was  the  one  melancholy  pleasure  of  trav- 
eling, and  so  I  bought  a  quarter's  worth  at 
every  place. 

Traveling  is  a  melancholy  pleasure  when  you 
have  a  baby  that  you  won't  let  drink  a  drop  of 
water  unless  it  has  had  the  germs  all  stewed  in 
262 


THE   ANNALS    OF    ANN 

it.  Waterloo  is  getting  to  be  such  a  big  boy 
now,  too ;  but  he  still  talks  like  a  telegram — just 
the  most  important  words  of  what  he  wants 
to  say,  with  all  the  others  left  out.  He's 
crazy  about  foot-ball,  chewing-gum  and  billy- 
goats.  And  you  just  ought  to  hear  him  chew 
gum! 

Among  the  points  of  interest  we  saw  was  the 
oldest  house  in  America.  It  is  a  very  interest- 
ing place.  It  has  a  marble  bust  of  Lord  Byron 
in  it! 

I  don't  remember  another  thing,  I  believe, 
except  that !  Oh  yes,  I  do,  too !  I  do  remember 
a  startling  thing  I  heard  about  a  very  old  bed 
in  that  house.  I  heard  the  guide  telling  that 
this  was  the  bed  that  William  the  Conqueror  and 
Maria  Theresa  slept  on !  I  hate  to  hear  folks  get 
their  history  mixed,  so  I  had  just  opened  my 
mouth  to  say  "Why,  they  were  not  married" 
when  I  spied  the  bust  of  his  lordship  in  the  next 
room.  After  that  I  didn't  care  how  many  tales 
they  made  up  on  William  and  Maria ! 
263 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

Poor  little  Waterloo  didn't  much  fancy  the 
oldest  house,  but  when  we  drove  up  to  "The 
Fountain  of  Youth,"  and  he  saw  the  clear, 
sparkling  "drink"  that  helped  Ponce  get  rid  of 
his  double  chin  and  crow's-feet  he  commenced 
to  howl  for  some.  Doctor  Gordon  had  told  us 
before  we  got  there  that  we  mustn't  dare  drink 
any  of  it  unless  there  was  a  signed  certificate 
that  there  wasn't  any  "coli"  in  it. 

We  looked  all  around,  but  as  we  didn't  see 
any  sign,  Rufe  thought  maybe  he'd  better  not 
give  him  any.  There  didn't  look  to  be  any 
"coli,"  either,  but  still  Rufe  didn't  like  the  idea 
of  his  drinking  it.  When  Waterloo  saw  that 
they  didn't  intend  to  give  him  any  he  com- 
menced to  kick  and  squall  and  get  so  red  in  the 
face  with  his  dancing  up  and  down  that  Rufe 
finally  screamed  back  to  the  carriage  that  Doc- 
tor Gordon  was  in  and  asked  him  if  he  thought 
one  little  glass  would  hurt  Waterloo.  Cousin 
Eunice  screamed  back  at  the  same  time  and 
said  for  Doctor  Gordon  to  give  his  honest  opin- 
264 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

ion,  for  she  wouldn't  have  the  little  angel  catch 
anything  so  far  away  from  home  for  the  whole 
of  the  East  coast. 

Doctor  Gordon,  who  had  been  made  nervous 
by  his  spell,  screamed  back  to  them  for  Heaven's 
sake  let  the  little  imp  drink  till  he  busted — only 
he  hoped  it  wouldn't  make  him  stay  as  yowng 
as  he  was  then! 

So  Rufe  motioned  for  the  lady  that  hands 
you  the  water,  with  a  North-of-the-Mason-and- 
Dixon  accent,  to  hush  talking  about  her  friend, 
Ponce  de  Leon,  long  enough  to  give  the  glass 
an  extra  scrubbing  and  hand  Waterloo  some 
water,  which  she  did.  This  didn't  do  as  much 
good,  though,  as  we  had  hoped  for.  Rufe  was 
in  such  a  hurry  to  get  away  from  "The  Foun- 
tain of  Youth"  that  his  hand  trembled  some 
and  he  spilt  the  first  glassful  down  Waterloo's 
little  front.  This  made  the  darling  so  mad, 
and  I  don't  blame  him  either,  that  he  slapped 
the  second  glassful  out  of  Rufe's  hand.  He 
washed  Teddy  Bear's  face  with  the  third,  and 
265 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

threw  the  fourth  in  Cousin  Eunice's  white  linen 
lap,  when  she  tried  to  soothe  him. 

Rufe  ran  his  hand  down  into  his  pocket  be- 
fore he  told  the  driver  to  drive  on,  for  he  knew 
that  milk  was  fifteen  cents  a  quart  in  Florida, 
and  water  was  almost  priceless.  The  lady  told 
him  that  she  would  have  to  collect  fifty  cents  for 
the  water  that  Waterloo  had  wasted,  and  that 
washing  out  the  glass  was  twenty-five  cents 
extra. 

Rufe  handed  her  a  twenty-dollar  bill,  but  she 
couldn't  change  it.  So  he  called  back  to  Doc- 
tor Gordon  to  ask  him  if  he  could. 

"Change!"  said  Doctor  Gordon,  looking  sur- 
prised that  Rufe  should  have  asked  him  such  an 
embarrassing  question.  "Why,  I  haven't  a 
thing  left  but  my  watch-fob  and  thermometer- 
case  and  wouldn't  have  had  them  if  I  hadn't 
worn  them  in  a  chamois  bag  around  my  neck !" 

So  Rufe  told  the  lady  he  would  mail  her  a 
check  for  the  amount  with  interest. 

Later  on  we  saw  ostrich  farms  and  the  big- 
266 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

gest  cigar  factory  in  the  world.  I  thmJc  they 
said  it  was  the  biggest.  Anyway,  if  there's  a 
bigger  one  I  don't  care  about  smelling  it ! 

It's  long  past  time  for  the  lights  to  go  out, 
mine  especially,  for  they  never  want  me  to  sit 
up  until  I  get  really  interested  in  anything ;  but 
I  believe  I  will  throw  a  black  sateen  petticoat  up 
over  the  transom,  which  I  have  found  out  you 
can  do  very  well  if  you  have  two  nails  up  there 
to  hang  it  on,  and  tell  one  more  little  thing  that 
happened  on  that  trip.  I  say  "little  thing," 
but  it  seemed  a  monstrous  big  thing  to  me  at 
the  time. 

When  we  were  about  half-way  through 
Georgia  on  our  way  home,  some  of  us  com- 
menced having  chills.  Doctor  Gordon  had  his 
first,  but  he  didn't  say  anything  about  it  to  Ann 
Lisbeth  until  he  got  to  shaking  so  that  she  saw 
something  was  the  matter.  Then  mother  and 
Cousin  Eunice  had  one  apiece.  Doctor  Gordon 
said  it  wasn't  anything  to  be  alarmed  about,  for 
it  was  just  a  little  malaria  cropping  out,  but  I 
267 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

felt  so  sorry  for  them  that  I  told  Ann  Lisbeth 
if  she  would  go  with  me  I  would  go  up  to  the 
baggage  car  and  see  if  we  could  get  out  some 
heavy  underclothes  from  our  trunk. 

We  had  to  stagger  through  a  long  string 
of  sleepers,  for  we  were  in  the  backest  one, 
but  we  were  rewarded  when  we  finally  did  get  to 
the  baggage  car.  There  was  a  merry-eyed  ex- 
press messenger  in  there  who  said  he  would  be 
glad  to  pull  and  haul  those  fifteen  or  twenty 
trunks  that  were  on  top  of  ours !  May  the  gods 
reward  him,  for  it  was  an  awful  job!  And  so 
we  got  out  enough  clothes  for  our  cold  and  des- 
titute families. 

Now,  you  may  have  noticed  before  this,  my 
diary,  that  I  am  a  forgetful  person.  I  can  re- 
member the  last  words  of  Charles  II,  or  any- 
thing like  that,  but  I  forget  what  I  did  yester- 
day. 

I  had  entirely  forgotten  about  stuffing 
oranges  in  with  all  our  clothes  when  I  helped 
mother  pack  our  trunks !  And  we  were  in  such 
268 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

a  hurry  in  the  express  car  that  we  didn't  stop 
to  shake  the  clothes  out  as  we  fished  them  up 
from  the  trays;  it  wouldn't  have  been  polite 
to,  anyway,  in  front  of  that  good-looking  ex- 
press messenger,  and  we  didn't  have  room 
enough.  So  we  had  just  lifted  things  out  as 
we  came  to  them  and  eased  them  up  in  our  arms 
as  we  started  on  back  on  our  walk  to  our  sleeper. 

But  the  oranges  hadn't  forgotten  about  be- 
ing there !  I  reckon  they  wanted  to  see  what 
all  that  disturbance  was  about  for,  I  cross  my 
heart,  just  as  I  got  opposite  the  swellest-look- 
ing  man  in  that  whole  string  of  sleepers,  a  man 
with  silk  socks  and  golf  sticks,  a  long  sleeve  of 
mother's  knit  corset-cover  dropped  down 
against  the  seat  in  front  of  him  and  four 
oranges  rolled  out !  They  rolled  slowly,  one  by 
one,  and  dropped  to  the  floor  with  muffled  thuds. 
Then  they  rolled  some  more  and  didn't  stop  until 
they  reached  his  feet. 

That's  how  I  knew  he  had  on  silk  socks. 


269 


CHAPTER  XIV 

I'M  as  lonesome  as  Marianna  m  the  Moated 
Grange  to-night!  Isn't  that  the  lone- 
somest  poem  on  earth?  Everything  about 
it  is  unsanitary,  too,  from  the  rusty  flower-pots 
to  the  blue  fly  "buzzing  in  the  pane."  No  won- 
der it  got  on  Marianna's  nerves,  in  her  condi- 
tion, too !  But  she  had  one  thing  to  be  thankful 
for — she  didn't  know  how  many  germs  that  fly 
had  on  its  feet! 

I'm  lonesome  for  Jean — or  somebody !  Thank 
goodness  it  is  nearly  time  for  Waterloo  to  come ! 
Cousin  Eunice  said  in  a  letter  that  we  had  from 
her  to-day  she  was  trying  to  raise  Waterloo 
right,  but  he  was  a  trial  to  her  feelings !  Now, 
poor  Cousin  Eunice  has  read  Herbert  Spencer 
for  the  sake  of  Waterloo's  future  education 
270 


THE    ANNALS   OF   ANN 

ever  since  he  has  been  born,  and  she  has  never 
let  him  out  of  her  sight  with  a  nurse  for  fear 
she  would  feed  him  chewed-up  chestnuts  and 
teach  him  about  the  Devil.  I  reckon  you  spell 
him  with  a  capital  letter,  if  you  don't  waste  them 
on  presiding  elders.  But  Waterloo  doesn't  al- 
ways show  how  carefully  he's  been  brought  up. 
He  is  of  nervous  temperament  and  told  a  woman 
who  was  sewing  on  the  machine  right  loud  the 
other  day :  "Hus',  hus' !  God's  sake,  make  noise 
easy!" 

This  is  disheartening  after  all  the  trouble  she 
has  taken  with  his  morals  and  diet  and  things 
like  that !  She  never  lets  him  eat  the  "deadly" 
things  that  Doctor  Gordon  is  always  talking 
about,  but  she  does  keep  a  little  pure  sugar 
candy  on  hand  all  the  time  to  be  used  only  as  a 
last  resort.  When  she  can't  make  him  do  any 
other  way  on  earth  she  uses  the  candy. 

Speaking  of  deadly  things  reminds  me  of 
Doctor  Bynum's  friends,  the  germs.  He  has 
told  Miss  Irene  so  many  stories  about  their  un- 
271 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

pleasant  ways  that  she  got  to  not  believing  in 
kissing,  but  he  said  pshaw !  it  looked  like  we  all 
had  to  die  of  germs  anyhow,  and  so  he'd  rather 
die  of  that  kind  than  any  other ! 

Cousin  Eunice's  letters  always  tell  us  so  many 
interesting  things  about  all  our  friends  in  the 
city.  She  and  Ann  Lisbeth  still  live  close 
neighbors,  but  they  have  both  bought  beautiful 
places  out  on  one  of  the  pikes  and  each  one  is 
claiming  to  be  more  countrified  than  the  other. 
One  day  Ann  Lisbeth  ran  over  and  told  Cousin 
Eunice  that  Doctor  Gordon  had  heard  an  owl  in 
their  yard  the  night  before,  but  Cousin  Eunice 
told  her  that  wasn't  anything!  She  and  Rufe 
had  had  a  bat  in  their  bedroom! 

Doctor  Gordon  has  two  automobiles  now.  He 
had  them  the  last  time  I  was  in  the  city  and  I 
got  to  find  out  exactly  what  "limousine" 
means.  I  had  an  idea  before  that  it  meant 
dark  green,  because — oh,  well,  I  needn't  tell  the 
reason ;  it  was  silly  enough  to  think  such  a  thing 
without  making  excuses  for  it.  But  you  know 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

so  many  swell  cars  are  painted  dark  green,  and 
so  many  swell  cars  are  limousines ! 

Ann  Lisbeth  is  a  great  help  to  Doctor  Gor- 
don in  his  practice,  he  says.  She  always  re- 
members the  different  babies'  names  and  looks 
up  subjects  for  him  in  his  surgical  books  that 
would  knock  the  knee-cap  off  of  Jean's  little 
word,  "genuflections." 

No  matter  how  fine  a  doctor  a  lady's  husband 
is  she  is  never  permitted  to  mention  it  to  her 
friends,  for  this  is  called  "unethical."  But  if 
she's  expecting  company  of  an  afternoon  she 
can  happen  to  have  a  bottle  with  a  queer  thing 
inside  setting  on  the  mantelpiece  and  when  the 
company  asks  what  on  earth  that  thing  is  she 
can  say,  "For  goodness*  sake!  My  husband 
must  have  forgotten  that !  Why  that's  Senator 
Himuck's  appendix!" 

Ann  Lisbeth  seems  to  get  sweeter  every  year 
and  you  would  never  know  she  has  a  foreign 
accent  now  except  on  Sunday  night  when  the 
cook's  away  and  the  gas  stove  doesn't  do  right. 
273 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

Another  good  piece  of  news  Cousin  Eunice 
wrote  to-day  was  that  the  Youngs  are  going  to 
try  it  again  at  the  bungalow  this  summer.  Pro- 
fessor Young  has  to  go  somewhere  to  rest  up 
from  his  studies.  For  nearly  eighteen  months 
now  he's  been  sitting  up  late  at  night  and  spend- 
ing the  whole  of  Saturdays,  even  taking  his 
coffee  out  to  the  laboratory  in  a  thermos  bottle, 
studying  pharmacy.  He  is  delighted  with  the 
progress  he  has  made,  for  he  says  he  has  not 
only  learned  how  to  make  a  perfectly  splendid 
cold  cream  for  his  wife's  complexion,  but  has 
discovered  just  which  bad-smelling  stuff  put 
with  another  bad-smelling  stuff  is  best  to  de- 
velop his  films.  He  says  his  knowledge  of  phar- 
macy has  saved  him  a  lot  of  money  in  this  way. 

Speaking  of  curious  couples  reminds  me  of 
the  Gayles.  They're  not  half  as  queer  now  as 
they  were  before  they  married  though.  At 
present  they  are  neither  in  Heaven,  nor  on 
earth,  exactly,  but  they  are  cruising  on  the  Med- 
iterranean. They  send  me  post-cards  from 
274 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

every  place  and  I  stick  them  in  my  album  with 
great  pride. 

Another  family  that  we're  always  glad  to 
hear  from  is  the  Macdonalds.  Poor  little 
fluffy-haired  Miss  Cis!  I  reckon  the  very  last 
of  her  dimples  will  soon  be  changed  into 
wrinkles,  for  there's  another  one  since  the  twins ! 
Nobody  can  say  that  Miss  Cis  is  not  bearing  up 
bravely,  though.  She  does  all  she  can  to  pre- 
sent a  stylish,  straight-front  appearance  when 
she  goes  out,  which  isn't  often.  But  at  home 
they  are  all  perfectly  happy  together,  Mr.  Mac- 
donald  getting  down  on  the  floor  to  play  bear, 
and  if  he  does  look  more  like  a  devil's  horse  while 
he's  doing  it,  with  his  long  arms  and  legs,  the 
twins  don't  know  the  difference. 

Marrying  has  helped  Julius'  looks  more  than 
anybody  I  ever  saw.  His  cheeks  have  filled  out 
until  he's  as  handsome  as  a  floor-walker.  And 
they're  so  contented  that  Marcella  says  actually 
when  she  finds  a  pin  pointing  toward  her  she 
doesn't  know  what  to  wish  for. 
275 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

You  may  have  caught  on  to  it  before  now, 
my  diary,  that  the  reason  I'm  telling  you  this 
very  last  news  of  all  our  friends  is  because  I'm 
going  to  stop  writing  sure  enough  to-night! 
I'm  ashamed  to  keep  breaking  my  promise  to 
mother. 

The  only  ones  I've  left  out,  I  believe,  are 
Aunt  Laura  and  Bertha.  I  wish  I  had  forgot- 
ten them  for  I  don't  like  to  say  anything  hate- 
ful in  my  diary. 

Aunt  Laura  has  joined  some  kind  of  New 
Thoughters  and  has  grown  quantities  of  new 
brown  hair  on  the  strength  of  it.  And  she 
dresses  in  champagne  silk  all  the  time. 

As  for  Bertha — she  lives  to  keep  up  with  the 
"best  people,"  meaning  by  this  that  she  runs  up 
to  the  hairdresser's  every  other  day  to  see  if  she 
can  learn  how  many  "society  men"  have  thrown 
their  wives  down  the  steps  or  poured  boiling 
coffee  over  them  since  she  last  heard. 

I'm  sorry  I  thought  of  Bertha  so  near  the 
last,  for  I  don't  want  to  leave  you  with  a  bad 
276 


THE    ANNALS    OF    ANN 

taste  in  your  mouth,  my  diary.  So  I'll  branch 
off  and  mention  something  sweet  right  away. 

That  blessed  Waterloo!  He's  the  sweetest 
thing  I  know  anything  about !  Just  about  this 
time  I  reckon  he's  begging  his  "Daddy-boy"  to 
sing  Feep  Alsie,  Ben  Bolt,  for  that's  been  his 
precious  little  sleepy  song  ever  since  he's  been 
born. 

When  I  think  of  those  three  and  how  happy 
they  are,  and  how  satisfied  they  are  just  to  be 
together,  I  know  that  Rufe  told  me  the  truth 
that  day,  a  long,  long  time  ago !  There  is  only 
one  subject  worth  writing  about— or  one  object 
worth  living  for !  May  every  one  of  you  grand- 
children find  just  such  an  object,  and  be  as 
happy  as  they  are  while  living  for  it ! 

It  does  seem  that  I  ought  to  be  able  to  think 
of  something  beautiful  to  wind  up  my  diary 
with!  Everything  about  me  is  beautiful!  The 
honeysuckle  is  smelling  like  the  very  soul  of 
spring  and  love  just  outside  my  window — and 
there's  a  bust  of  Lord  Byron  on  my  mantelpiece 
277 


THE    ANNALS    OF   ANN 

close  by.  Such  a  tiny  bust — the  curly  head 
just  fits  into  the  palm  of  my  hand — when  I  get 
grown  I'm  going  to  have  one  big  enough  to 
burn  candles  before!  Not  that  I  shall  burn 
candles  before  it — for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I'd 
much  rather  be  burning  my  fingers  cooking  oat- 
meal for  some  big,  brown-eyed  "Daddy-boy" 
and  tiny,  brown-eyed  Waterloo! 

Mammy  Lou  came  to  my  window  just  as  I 
wrote  this  last  and  stuck  her  head  in. 

"Name  o'  Deuteronomy!"  she  said  in  a  loud 
whisper  when  she  saw  this  book  open  before  me. 
"What  good'll  your  grandchildren  do  you,  I'd 
like  to  know — if  you  set  up  all  night  and  lose 
your  looks  so  you'll  nuvver  fin'  a  hasban'?" 


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